


Working Together

by yourebrilliant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 21,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourebrilliant/pseuds/yourebrilliant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the kind of project she loves, with the kind guy she...hates?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione was just returning from lunch, afternoon mug of tea in hand, when she heard a sharp whistle in the corridor, and ducked to one side just in time to avoid being skewered by the extremely fast internal memo speeding towards her office.

Following it in, she set her mug and bag down as she waited for it to stop circling her desk and settle down. Sitting down in her seat, she watched as it spun erratically around the room, giving no indication that it intended to stop anytime soon. Finally she became tired of its fluttering, and snapped her fingers commandingly.

The memo immediately slid into place on her blotter. It was pure black rather than the usual pale lilac, and it refused to open until she tapped it with her wand. ‘Aurors,’ she muttered, shaking her head.

When it had settled down on her desk, she leant forward to read the contents.

 _Ms Granger,_ it read,

_The department would like to request your collaboration on a joint project to improve the security of Auror communications._

_Should you agree to participate, you will be assigned a partner from the department._

_Please tap your wand on the paper below, and whisper your response._

_Regards,_

_Marcus ‘Wand-Ready’ Worthington_

_Head Auror_

Hermione read the missive twice, and then again, mulling over the contents. _A joint project with Aurors?_ she thought. _Could be interesting. Could be infuriating_ , she added after a moment. Aurors were, by necessity, deeply mistrustful and paranoid. Even after as little as a year or so on the job, they would have put too many Dark Wizards behind bars to sleep untroubled. _Assigned a partner_ , she read again. _Could be Harry_. The thought made her smile. Harry was her closest friend, had always been her closest friend. Voldemort aside, they had seen each other through stupid mistakes, disastrous crushes, long, lonely nights in a wet tent without Ron. Surely, knowing their past, Auror Worthington would assign them to work together.

With that settled, Hermione lifted her wand and tapped the paper beneath the Head Auror’s signature, whispering ‘Yes’.

Immediately a further sentence was revealed.

_Please make an appointment with Auror Potter for further instructions._

Delighted at her accurate deduction, Hermione stood and headed out the door, the re-folded memo fluttering in her wake.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a measure of how resilient Hermione was that this young war veteran nearly skipped along to Auror Headquarters, deliberately oblivious to the dark clothing and sharp looks of the Aurors passing by her as she made her way to Harry’s office.

‘Yuh,’ Harry muttered in distracted response to her sharp knocks. He looked up to see her standing, beaming, in his doorway and felt his lips twitch in response. ‘Hermione,’ he said, standing from behind his desk, ‘it says make an appointment to meet with me, not pitch up on my door.’

Hermione tutted, dismissing this consideration with a flutter of her hand. ‘I felt like a walk,’ she said, slipping into one of the chairs in front of his desk. ‘You’re not busy are you?’ she asked, showing minor apprehension for the first time since her arrival.

Harry dropped into the chair behind his, rather substantial-looking, desk. ‘Nothing urgent,’ he replied casually.

‘Good,’ Hermione beamed, leaning forward excitedly. ‘Because I think we should get started straight away! Oh, this is going to be so great, you know I think you spend too much time down here.’

‘Hermione,’ he laughed, ‘This is where I work.’

‘I know that,’ she said dismissively, ‘But...oh, never mind,’ she said, ‘I don’t want to fight with you on the first day of our new project!’

Smiling at her over his wire frames, Harry wondered if Hermione had chosen Research and Development because it was so much like class; projects, outlines, time-lines, it was all like homework again.

Remembering what he had to do, Harry coughed. ‘Um, Hermione...’

She had been away in a dream, wittering on about the different ideas she had for the project, now she stopped talking and looked at him inquisitively. ‘Harry?’

‘Listen, the thing is,’ he shifted uncomfortably, ‘I was asked to brief you on the project, but I’m not actually going to work with you on it.’

She looked disappointed, chewing absent-mindedly on her lip as she considered his information. ‘Why not?’ she asked finally.

He smiled at her. ‘Hermione, you remember school, right? I mean, I never would’ve passed Potions without you,’ there was an uncomfortable moment where neither of them mentioned the Half-Blood Prince, ‘and I never even cracked the cover of an Ancient Runes or Arithmancy book.’

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. ‘What’s your point, Harry?’

‘That I’m not the right person for this, and you know it. I’m a wand jockey, a field agent. You need someone with the patience to do research, someone smart enough to keep up with you.’

‘So, who is it? And why did they need you to...’ she tailed off, her eyes getting wide as she swiftly shuffled through all the possible Aurors she could be paired up with and came up with the one most likely to need Harry’s intervention.

‘He’s got a very good school record,’ Harry began.

‘Oh, no,’ she whispered.

‘NEWTS in Potions--’

‘No.’

‘Ancient Runes,’ he continued.

‘Please, no,’ she muttered, rubbing her fingers at the sides of her temples.

‘Arithmancy.’

‘Not him.’

‘He came second in his class,’ Harry added, continuing over her desperate mutterings.

‘Not Malfoy.’

‘Hermione, he’s a good...well maybe not a good guy,’ he amended, at her scowl, ‘he’s not an angel, but he’s not Malfoy anymore. He’s an adult, a man, not a scared little boy.’

‘It may have slipped your notice, Harry,’ she said frostily, rising from her chair. 'But your albino boyfriend still hasn’t apologised to me for his slur against, oh, so many things. Until he does,’ she added, stepping forward and yanking the door open, 'You can improve the security of Auror communications by yourselves.’

Striding through the door, she stalked angrily through the corridors and into the Ministry elevator without a backward glance. Still stuck behind his desk, Harry dropped his head into his hands as a voice above him drawled, ‘Well, that went well.’


	3. Chapter 3

Looking up at his empty doorway, Harry muttered, ‘Malfoy?’

There was a shuffle of robes and a moment of silence, and then Draco Malfoy began to appear slowly, marginally like a painting running in the rain. When the Disillusionment spell had ended, he took a step forward and dropped into the chair Hermione had so recently and dramatically vacated.

‘I think I’m a little jealous, Potter,’ he murmured, ‘she usually keeps that level of disdain in her voice just for me.’

‘And you must always be special,’ Harry responded, slumping back in his chair, ‘even if it’s just in Hermione’s hatred.’

‘Obviously,’ Malfoy agreed. He watched Potter from beneath pale, soft eyelashes, as he toyed with his wand. The change in the man across from him, since the war, was dramatic. Without the pressure of his possibly suicidal destiny hanging over him, Potter had calmed down considerably. Being an Auror, he insisted, was nothing like being the Chosen One; he still fought the forces of evil, but he had chosen his path, and he was fully trained for it, backed up by his fully trained partner.

Leaning back in his chair, Malfoy casually lifted his long legs, resting his heavy boots on the edge of Potter’s substantial desk. He still enjoyed trying to wind Potter up, not to see him blow, but because he so rarely did these days. It was so much more challenging than at school.

‘How much did you hear?’ Harry asked, his eyes shuttling briefly to the expensive dragon-hide boots without comment.

‘Everything, of course,’ Malfoy replied indolently.

Harry smirked tolerantly. In a way, he found it soothing that so little of Malfoy’s essential being had changed with the war. He no longer used words like Mudblood, and his ties to the Dark Arts had been firmly severed, but he was still arrogant and smooth, still trying to wind Harry up, and still possessed of that Slytherin cunning which had come in useful a time or two.

‘So?’ he asked, leaning across the blotter.

Malfoy dropped his feet to the floor and leant forward on his knees. ‘So?’

Harry sighed. ‘So, my little albino boyfriend, are you going to apologise to Hermione?’

It had been a long, hard road for Harry and Draco to get the stage where they could joke with each other like this. It had taken fighting through stakeouts, saving each other’s lives in battles, placing their unconditional trust in the other man and having it rewarded time and again. Most importantly, it had taken an apology. Harry knew it hadn’t been easy for Malfoy to apologise for making his life miserable at school, and his actions to Harry hadn’t even been that bad -- Unforgivable Curses aside -- so he knew how hard it would be for him to apologise to Hermione, to whom he had been so much worse.

Malfoy’s eyes widened as he caught on. ‘Hmm,’ he considered, leaning back in his chair again, and regarding Harry from between white-blond bangs. ‘Are we absolutely sure that’s necessary?’

‘Malfoy,’ Harry began, but Draco was still speaking.

‘I mean I am sorry, isn’t that enough? Do I really have to say it?’

Harry laughed. ‘Yes, you pathetic wuss. Hermione is a very advanced and talented witch, but – last time I checked – she hadn’t added Legilimency to her list of skills. So, yes, you’re just going to have to come out and say it. That is,’ he continued, ‘if you want to get through this highly important project without getting your arse hexed.’

Malfoy sighed, his brows furrowed thoughtfully. ‘You know something, Potter, and I don’t say this often, but, you may be right.’ He was silent for a moment more, watching the doorway through which the witch in question had so recently stormed, his turbulent emotions hidden behind a shield of placid silver. Then he sighed again. ‘Bugger.’


	4. Working Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves, with the kind guy she...hates?

In the time it had taken for Malfoy to reach his distasteful conclusion, Hermione had stormed to the elevator, huffed through the descent of two floors, and stropped along the corridor to her obscure office.She was now sitting behind her desk frowning at a blank scroll of parchment as if it had done her a deep personal harm, and huffing periodically.

In contrast to her, mostly calm, exterior, Hermione’s mind was whirring.How _dare_ they?Assuming that she would just go along with this project like a good little girl.That she would just _willingly_ work with the boy – man, she had to admit – who had made her school years hell?Who had scorned her with the deepest insult of the wizarding world before she even knew what it meant?Well, tough.Hermione Granger wasn’t a _good little girl_ anymore, and she hadn’t been made the youngest Head of Research and Development in the history of the Ministry of Magic by letting people walk all over her.

She was nodding her head in agreement with her inner thoughts, when a familiar black paper plane zoomed into the room and started spinning anxiously.Too angry to deal with it, she screeched, ‘ _LAND!’_ and thanked Merlin - and Snape, sadly - for the _Muffliato_ charm, once more.

The paper plane came to an abrupt halt above her desk and dropped, like a Quidditch player after a Bludger to the head, to land on her desk with a thump.Rolling her eyes, Hermione leaned forward and tapped the memo open.

She recognised the lazily looping handwriting instantly and leant forward, intrigued, in spite of herself, to read Malfoy’s words.

 _Granger,_ he wrote,

_ It has been brought to my attention that the continuation of this project hinges upon my proffering an apology to you for my behaviour in school.I believe this is a project worth undertaking, so please consider my apology proffered. _

_ Malfoy. _

For a moment, Hermione could do nothing but stare at the paper, disbelief at his casual attitude towards something which was so important to her warring with anger at his arrogant manner.Then anger won.Snatching up her quill, she drew a sharp line beneath his platitude and began to write.

 _Ferret,_ she replied,

_ If you believe that pathetic, empty, waste of paper and ink constitutes an apology, then you are clearly so deluded that I worry for the sake of Harry’s health.Apology  _ not _accepted._

_ Hermione Granger, _

_ Head of Research and Development. _

 

Malfoy sighed as he re-read her sharp response; it had been too much to hope it would be this easy, but it was always worth a try.In fact, he thought, rubbing fiercely at the tender spot where the plane had - no doubt under Hermione’s instructions - bashed into his head, it may _still_ be worth a try.Brandishing his trade-mark smirk, Malfoy reached for his extremely expensive quill and drew a line under her signature.

_ Granger, _

_ It was good enough for Harry. _

_ Ferret. _

 

Hermione laughed outright at the short message scrawled beneath her note.Harry was a kind and forgiving person, but even he must have needed more than Malfoy’s empty words to trust him with his life.Well, she would accept no less.

_ Bollocks. _

 

Malfoy sputtered with laughter at Hermione’s unexpected response.She wasn’t going to make this easy for him, was she?Well, it was up to her.Malfoy had very little practice in apologising, but years and years of dodging the dreaded bullet.Distraction, that was the key.

_ Tut, tut, Granger.Language unbefitting a lady. _

 

Grabbing the paper plane before it could land; Hermione hauled it open to read his response.Rolling her eyes, she turned the paper over and scratched out a reply.

 _‘Unbefitting a lady’??? There’s those delusions again,_ she wrote. _Tell me, Malfoy, do the little people talk to you?_

Tapping the paper to fold it the right way, she pulled her arm back and flung it into the corridor.Sitting behind her desk, she folded her arms and tapped her fingers against her elbow as she waited for it to come zooming back.Lunging across her desk, Hermione made a catch to make Harry proud, practically ripping the paper in her haste to read Malfoy’s response.

_ What little people?  _

About to explain her meaning, Hermione suddenly realised what Malfoy was doing.First increasing the power of her _Muffliato_ charm, she screamed her frustration at his tactics so loudly she fancied she felt the Ministry shudder.When she had recovered, she stabbed her quill into the ink pot again and pinned the quivering paper to the desk.

 

When the returning paper attempted to render him blind in, not one but, both eyes upon its return, Malfoy came to the conclusion that Hermione had figured him out.With a trepidation he would rather be _Crutio_ ’d than admit to, he opened the plane.

 _That’s not the point,_ she had written, harshly, _the point is, that was_ not _an apology and, until you make a proper apology, there will be no project._

She was right, of course.It was time for the Malfoy charm.Ish.

 

_ To her most gracious and glorious personage, Head of the Department of Research and Development, Consort of the Chosen One, Smartest Witch of Our Age, Hermione Granger. _

_ From the most lowly and unworthy scum of the Auror department. _

_ Great shining beauty, I am in awe of your intelligence and fortitude.It pains me physically to have caused you hurt, and I extend my deepest apologies for all physical and emotional hurt I have caused during our unfortunateacquaintance, including, but not limited to,excessive use of an unforgivable term of ignorant racism, the use of a number of despicable hexes, and comments to the detriment of yourself and your compatriots. _

_ I beg that you accept this apology, oh glorious one. _

Hermione sighed.Then she looked out the window at the darkening sky.Then she sighed again.She was obviously never going to get her apology from Malfoy.For all his flowery words, she supposed she wasn’t good enough to merit a sensible response.Looking back at the paper, she swiftly scratched out a response, and sent the missive on its way before reaching back to lift her bag from her chair and leave her office.

 

_ Malfoy, _

_ Lady Sarcasm has such pretty skirts to hide behind, doesn’t she?Save your ink, I’m going home. _

_ Hermione. _

__

She was brushing the small, unavoidable, smudges of fireplace soot from her work robes when she heard a knock at her door.

‘Who is it?’ she called warily.

‘Harry Potter,’ drawled a familiar voice.

‘What do you want, Malfoy?’ she asked, yanking open the door to glare up at him.

‘I do _not_ hide behind women’s skirts, Granger, real or metaphorical,’ he scowled.

Hermione sighed, and leant against the door frame.‘You don’t _have_ to apologise, you know,’ she commented.Malfoy’s eyebrows shot for his hairline.‘All you have to do is get another Auror assigned to the project and you’re free.’

Malfoy scowled.

‘Why is this project so important to you?’ she huffed.

Malfoy sighed.‘Granger, my job involves openly putting my life on the line, for the greater good, every single day,’ he said wearily.Hermione nodded, mulling over his words.Somehow the knowledge that Harry was risking his life for good, and that Malfoy was working with Harry, had never reconciled to _Malfoy is risking his life for good_ , in her head.It was something to think about.

‘Right,’ she agreed.

‘Well, that’s not a comfortable place for an ex-Slytherin,’ he explained.‘Now I can handle it for a while,’ he continued.‘But, if I don’t do something sneaky and cunning every few months, I break out in,’ unconsciously he leant towards her for dramatic effect, ‘ _Gryffindor hives_.’

Hermione tried to frown at him, but he was close enough to see the laughter dancing in her eyes and tugging at her lips.It suddenly occurred to him that he was closer to her than he’d ever been before, and he straightened swiftly.‘It’s not pretty,’ he continued.

Suddenly, Hermione sighed.She had been thinking over his words as he spoke.All joking aside, she suspected he was being truthful when he said he needed a break from the constant danger of life as an Auror.He _was_ the best person for the project; surely she could be the bigger magical being?

‘Alright, Malfoy,’ she said, calmly.‘Be in my office tomorrow morning to discuss the project.’He stared at her, amazed, and she fidgeted a little under his gaze.‘Goodnight,’ she said stiffly, about to close the door.

‘Hermione,’ his soft whisper stayed her hand.

‘Yes?’

‘I _am_ sorry,’ he said quietly.

She beamed at him.‘Apology accepted.’


	5. Working Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves, with the kind of guy she...hates?

Opening Hermione’s office door the next morning, Draco Malfoy was, for one of the few times in his life, rendered completely speechless by the sight within. Standing in the centre of her desk, work robes kilted up to the knees, stood Hermione Granger. And, dancing around her, were a large number of Hermione Granger’s books.

Slouching casually in the doorway, Malfoy watched in amusement as a parade of huge tomes and slim volumes, leather-bound treasures and more modern purchases, traipsed through the air towards her. Upon reaching her dancing wand, the books were either added to a precarious – and ever growing – pile or dispatched back to their home in the library next to her office.

‘ _What_ are you doing?’ Malfoy drawled quietly.

Hermione started, less from his actual presence and more from the appearance of a genuine smile on his face, and jerked her wand inadvisably. Immediately the books lost their rhythm and started to bunch up, causing a backlog.

Malfoy was all set to wade in, metaphorically speaking, and rescue her, when she rolled her eyes, flicked her wand, and the problem was solved. Leaving the books dancing from side to side to a silent tune, Hermione flipped her hair out of her eyes and made her way over to the edge of the table.

Before he realised what he was doing, Malfoy found that he had reached out and held up a hand to help her down from the desk.

‘Thanks,’ she murmured, leaning slightly against his support to jump down from the desk.

Unnoticed by Hermione, he frowned. It was very odd, this feeling he was getting. He knew women liked this sort of thing, but he preferred to play the rogue – it was easier to be a bastard from the start and avoid raising their expectations. Generally, in fact, he left the knight-in-shining-armour stuff to Potter. So why was getting these gentlemanly urges for the poster woman for equality?

‘It’s a Searching Charm,’ Hermione was saying, her flushed face tipped up, her eyes sparkling with the undiminished joy of performing magic. ‘It’s my own personal variation for my library,’ she added, stepping away to straighten the teetering pile.

‘Indeed,’ he commented, slinking into her guest chair with an almost unnoticeable glance of apprehension at the still-dancing books above him. ‘Well,’ he commented, lounging in the chair, ‘it makes sense.’

Staring out at her magically manufactured fourth floor view, he missed the look of incredulity Hermione was throwing his way. After a moment, however, he felt her gaze scorching the side of his face and turned to look at her. ‘What?’

‘That was...nice,’ she commented. ‘Or neutral, at least.’

‘Oh,’ Malfoy said, slitting his eyes against the light pouring in, ‘well...I’m still sleepy,’ he commented, yawning dramatically, ‘creature of the night and all that. I’ll be mean again when I wake up.’

‘Don’t,’ she said quietly. His eyes widened in shock at the softness in her voice. ‘It’s nice, when you’re nice.’

Slouching lower in the seat, Malfoy suppressed a shudder at the feeling dancing up his spine. A feeling so unknown to him that he had no name for it. He could name the other emotion he was feeling though; exposed. Somehow his guards had fallen, and he was open to attack. This could not be allowed to happen. He smirked. ‘Tell you what, Granger,’ he drawled, ‘I’ll be nice to you, if you keep wearing your robes above your knees.’

She frowned at him in confusion, until he dropped his gaze to her bare calves. Flushing, she unpinned her robes until they fell once more to her ankles.

‘Same old spoilsport Granger,’ he muttered, closing his eyes again.

‘Same old ferret Malfoy,’ she commented archly. ‘Did you want something?’ she asked, when he continued to – for all intents and purposes – sleep.

‘I was summoned,’ he explained theatrically, ‘and so, here I am. It won’t always work,’ he added, cracking a lid to peer at her. She was watching him thoughtfully. It was disconcerting. Wordlessly, he raised an eyebrow in question, his eyes closed again.

‘Are you going to be _any_ use without coffee?’ she asked.

‘Haven’t you drunk it all?’ he asked acerbically, referring to her disturbing amount of energy.

‘Oh, this is natural,’ she commented. He grunted, unsurprised. It figured she’d be a morning person. Suddenly there was a waft of ground beans, and he could feel a gentle hand folding his fingers around a warm mug. Opening his eyes again, he found himself holding a large cup of black coffee. Hermione was gently releasing his hand, after ensuring he had a firm grasp of the mug.

Leaning forward, he sniffed the coffee suspiciously, before taking a small sip and washing it around his mouth to try and detect any poisons. ‘Oh, Malfoy,’ she huffed, after a second, ‘I’m a Gryffindor, remember, if we’re trying to kill you, we just stab you with a sword,’ she made an odd little stabbing gesture, and he had to hide his smile with the mug, ‘we don’t poison your morning coffee.’

Reassured by her complaining, he took a large gulp of the coffee and sighed as he felt the cogs begin to churn once more in his brain. ‘Right,’ he said, sitting higher in the chair, ‘where do we start?’


	6. Working Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves, with the kind of guy she...hates?

Four hours later, Malfoy knew, not only where they were going to start, but, also a number of the steps along the way. She’d managed approximately ten minutes of pretending that she hadn’t really given it any thought, before reaching into her robes and drawing out a thick roll of parchment covered in her neat script.

‘Granger,’ Malfoy muttered, trying to draw her attention away from The List; it had been amusing in the beginning – like being in school again – but it was lunchtime and beyond and she was showing no signs of reaching the end of scroll. ‘Granger. Granger,’ he repeated. She either didn’t hear or ignored him, continuing to witter on about various muggle instruments of tortu-er communication, that she thought they could replicate or charm to work in the magical world. ‘Granger,’ he continued, bouncing the thick book he was reading against his knees; he had his long legs propped on the edge of her desk. ‘Granger, Granger, Grangerrangerangerangeranger,’ he muttered.

‘What?’ she snapped, her hair fluffing around her as she spun round from her parchment to look at him.

Holding the book lightly, he slid his feet off of the desk and leant towards her - was it his imagination or did she lean forward too? Sliding forward on his chair he leaned even closer, yep she was leaning further forward. Smirk firmly in place he leant even closer and whispered, ‘Let’s go to lunch.’

Leaning back in his chair, he smiled at the perplexity dominating her expression. ‘Lunch?’ she asked, confused.

‘Yes, Granger,’ he said, sighing and rising fluidly from his chair, ‘you know, that meal between breakfast and dinner?’

She huffed. ‘Thank you, Malfoy, I am aware of the meaning of the word “lunch”.’

‘Good,’ he said, dropping the book on her desk and stepping around to lift her out of her chair by the elbow, ‘let’s put some practice into that theory, then.’

Rolling her eyes, she stood and dusted her robes off. ‘After you, Professor,’ she commented archly, waving him ahead of her.

 

‘Okay, so that’s a no on number twelve,’ Hermione commented, drawing an emphatic line through the dismissed idea. ‘Still plenty to go!’ she smiled at him, gesturing to the feet of parchment rolling ominously over the edge of the desk. It occurred to Malfoy that no one had set a time limit on this project. An undefined period of time with Hermione Granger and an enormous list. Malfoy shuddered deeply and hid in his coffee mug.

 

‘While you’re in there,’ he called, from his comfortable seat behind her desk, ‘could you get Volume Twelve of _Bridging the Gap Between Minds_? I’ve finished Volume Eleven.’

‘Sure!’ she muttered, hiking her robes up slightly. ‘Top shelf of the library and the tallest man in the world asks _me_ to get it because he can’t be bothered to get off his ARSE!’ she continued, shouting the last word at his unconcerned person.

‘Language, Granger,’ he called, causing her to roll her eyes in an inadvisable fashion, given that she was now scaling the packed shelves of her exceedingly tall bookcases.  
To her credit, she made it almost to the top before she lost her balance. The volume was somewhat lighter than it appeared and her hearty tug overbalanced her. Closing her eyes she shrieked in terror and braced herself for the fall, and inevitable trip to St Mungos.

Suddenly there was a huff of breath across the side of her face, and she opened her eyes to find herself cradled in Malfoy’s arms. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, his low intense tone so much more disturbing than shouting.

‘Getting the book, _your_ book,’ she responded archly, trying to ignore how light and delicate, how _safe_ , she felt in his grasp.

‘This is a trick,’ he commented distractedly, tipping her unceremoniously to her feet. ‘Why didn’t I see it before? You gravely injure yourself doing a favour for me, Potter _Avada_ ’s me for damaging his girlfriend, revenge for you.’

‘I’m not Harry’s girlfriend,’ Hermione interrupted. Malfoy waved this consideration aside.

‘ _Plus_ ,’ he continued, now pacing absent-mindedly in the narrow library space, ‘there’s the added bonus of possibly causing me to suffer a heart-attack from shock.’ Pressing a hand to the base of his spine, he winced and added, ‘Not to mention hernia from catching you.’

 _So much for light and delicate_ , Hermione thought, brushing imaginary dust from her robes and flinging the large book in his general direction. ‘Yes, Malfoy, you’ve discovered my evil plan. And I would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for those meddlesome kids,’ she added, unable to resist a Muggle reference.

‘You’ve got _children_ involved?’ he asked incredulously.

About to explain the reference, she looked over and saw the spark of humour in his steady silver gaze. Hefting the large volume, he winked at her as he slid past her and dropped back into the comfortable chair.

Suppressing a smile, she lifted the book she’d been fetching and settled herself opposite him. ‘I’ll get you next time,’ she muttered quietly.

He smirked without looking at her. ‘Bring it on, Granger,’ he commented, before cracking the book again. ‘Bring it on.’

 

‘No go on twenty four,’ Hermione commented, leaning across the desk to strike out the suggestion from the somewhat more battered scroll.

‘Why?’ Malfoy asked, looking up from his own scroll in surprise.

‘There are...side effects,’ Hermione murmured, flushing slightly.

Intrigued, Malfoy arched an eyebrow, but she would say no more, merely rolling the parchment forward and moving on to number twenty-five.

 

‘Grangee,’ Malfoy suggested, huddling further under the minimal shade provided by the tree he was sitting under.

‘Veto,’ Hermione added, without opening her eyes.

‘Onee.’

‘Means older sister in Japanese,’ she commented, linking her hands behind her head and stretching out on the grass.

‘Mio,’ he tried, examining his long fingers for the first signs of freckles.

‘Means my in Italian,’ she said, rolling on her side and propping her head on one hand to watch him with amusement. ‘Why can’t you just call me by my name?’

‘I was,’ he explained, ‘you objected.’

‘Granger is not my name,’ she said, lying back again, ‘it’s my _sur_ name.’

‘I know,’ he commented, rolling his eyes, ‘but, really, Hermione Granger? Didn’t your parents want grandkids?’

‘What does that mean?’ she asked sharply, her eyebrows shooting up.

He shrugged indolently. ‘It’s an old maid’s name.’

‘ _What_?’ she gasped, frowning at him.

‘With cats,’ he added, using the opportunity of her overwhelming anger to unravel the ends of her robe with a sneakily cast spell. Ever since that first day he’d been obsessed with catching another glance of her shapely calves. ‘A spinster with cats. Nothing like you at all.’

Scrunching up her eyes in an attempt to understand his backhanded compliment, she batted a hand at his wand and absent-mindedly reversed the spell. ‘So you’re saying I’m _not_ a spinster with cats?’

‘Nope,’ he commented cheerfully. ‘Ang,’ he suggested.

‘Short for Angela,’ she said dismissively. ‘Why can’t you just call me ‘Mione like Harry and Ron?’

‘I believe the second half of that sentence answers your question,’ he commented acerbically. ‘HG?’

‘Like Wells?’ she asked, incredulously, lying back down to soak up the sun.

‘Alright, how about H?’

She frowned, considering. ‘Well, I shouldn’t like it, since you’re dispensing with almost my entire given name,’ she commented, ‘but it’s better than any of your other suggestions.’

‘Good,’ he commented, satisfied. Silence reigned for a moment before he tipped his head back and muttered, ‘Think they’ve fumigated the lab yet?’

Sighing regretfully, Hermione nodded. ‘Probably. Back to work, then,’ she agreed, disturbed to find that she would rather stay here. _Because of the sun_ , she assured herself. _Nothing to do with Malfoy acting like a human being._ About to rise, she found a pale, long-fingered hand dangling invitingly in her vision. Looking up she saw Malfoy leaning over her, offering her a hand up. Confused, she took his hand, still expecting – two weeks into the project – that it was a trick.

Without looking at her, he lifted her without effort. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, tucking her hair back over her shoulder.

He nodded awkwardly. ‘You need to eat more,’ he commented cryptically, striding back into the building with a confused Hermione trailing in his wake.

 

‘Forget forty three,’ Draco announced, looking up from his book in disgust.

‘Why?’ Hermione asked, intrigued.

‘It only works with people you trust,’ he commented blandly.

‘And?’ she asked.

‘ _And_ Aurors don’t trust anyone,’ he explained, reaching out a long leg to kick the parchment closer to her so he wouldn’t have to get up and strike it off.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. ‘That’s nothing to be proud of,’ she said, rising from her chair to roll down the scroll to the right line. Malfoy, his legs hanging over the side of the chair, reached round the desk with his wand and aimed a sly _Wingardium Leviosa_ at the base of her robes. ‘Stop that,’ she commented, absent-mindedly patting the side of her robes. ‘You’re giving me the shivers.’

‘H,’ he commented lecherously, ‘I didn’t know you cared.’

Finished scoring through the line, she reached over and smacked him upside the head causing his blonde bangs to dance over his silver eyes. ‘Do it again,’ she commented darkly, ‘and I’ll break your...wand.’

Draco watched her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘You meant the one from Olivanders, right?’ he asked after a moment.

Settling herself back in her chair, Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him over the top of her book. ‘Try it again and you’ll find out,’ she said, in a voice that made him shiver and shift uncomfortably in his chair.

 

‘H?’ Malfoy commented, curled up in the deep frame surrounding her false window.

‘Trying to read, Malfoy,’ she commented.

‘No, but really,’ he said, ignoring her, ‘this window...’

Closing her eyes and praying for patience, Hermione looked up from her book. ‘What about the window?’ she asked sharply.

‘Do you choose the weather or is it a Magical Mood Depictor?’ he asked, voicing a question that had been bugging him for some weeks now.

‘I choose the weather,’ she ground out, gesturing to the bright sunny day “outside” as she returned to her reading.

‘And if it did reflect your mood?’ he asked quietly.

Without looking up from her book, Hermione flicked her wand in the direction of the window. Malfoy jumped as lightning immediately crashed across the “sky” and hail battered at the “window” seeming as if it were attempting to break through the glass and batter _him_.

‘Point taken,’ he muttered, reaching for his own text. Looking over at her under his eyelashes, he could see the hint of a smile flitting around her mouth and found the corners of his own lips lifting as well.


	7. Working Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves, with the kind of guy she...hates?

‘Tut tut, H,’ Malfoy said, addressing the woman in the doorway without even looking up from the large book he was reading. ‘Eleven thirty start? Now is not the time for those lazy lie ins.’ When there was no response, he looked up to find her glowering at him from the open door. ‘What?’ he asked, genuinely confused.

‘ _What?_ ’ she shrieked. ‘We are _partners_ in this project,’ she ground out, her teeth gritted together to keep from yelling.

‘I _had_ noticed,’ Malfoy responded, one pale eyebrow rising lazily as his mind raced through the last few days to think of something he could have done to annoy her like this. Maybe...no, she’d laughed at that one. And then got him back for it.

‘Oh really?’ she asked, sarcastically. ‘So, what, you thought your _partner_ would be fine presenting on her own?’

‘What?’ he asked again, annoyed that she was making him sound like a Weasley.

‘THE MEETING!’ she screeched. ‘The monthly interdepartmental meeting was this morning.’

‘Okay,’ he said, vaguely remembering Harry mentioning something about a meeting from hell, but still not seeing where this was his fault.

‘And, as the Head of R&D, I have to be there,’ she continued.

‘Before we’re old, H,’ he commented sharply, boring of this already.

Hermione took several deep breaths. ‘Don’t push me, Malfoy. As the Head of R&D I _had_ to be there. I also _had_ to be at that _waste of time_ to present on the progress of this VERY IMPORTANT PROJECT!’

‘ _Still_ not seeing the point, _Granger_ ,’ he spat.

‘Well, they do say inbreeding dulls the mind,’ she shot back. ‘ _Malfoy_. The point, as if you care, is that for a report on this _joint_ project both the members of the _joint_ project should have been there! Instead, I was left to explain to my boss – who is also _your_ boss, by the way – why the _extremely dedicated_ other half of my team, couldn’t be ARSED to remember to attend the meeting!’

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something.

‘AND GET YOUR FEET OFF MY DESK!’ Hermione screeched.

‘Got that off your chest, _Granger_?’ he hissed quietly. ‘When you’ve quite finished your little temper tantrum, perhaps we can discuss this in reasonable terms and then go back to working on this _very important project_ without getting all...emotional.’

‘Why, you arrogant-’ Hermione started to move into the room.

‘With good reason,’ Malfoy commented, looking back down at his book.

‘-self-indulgent-’

‘Are you offering to indulge me instead?’ he drawled.

‘- _bastard!_ ’

Suddenly his head shot up. ‘Oh, no, Granger, that’s enough.’

Hermione paused, caught by the warning in his steely tone.

‘You can insult me all you want, you’ve been doing it for years, but I _will not_ have you insulting my mother.’

Hermione wavered for a second, wondering if she had crossed the line, but the humiliation of the morning was too fresh in her mind. He had confused her, acting like a decent human being, letting her drop her guards, letting her think they could be friends, and then _leaving_ her to face that melee on her own. Taking a deep breath, she leant forward, narrowed her eyes, and hissed, ‘But Malfoy, surely having _you_ as a son is insult enough.’

In a second he was over – literally over – the desk, piles of books tumbling to the floor in his wake, and standing right in front of her, closer than he’d ever been before. Defiantly, despite the hyper-fast beating of her heart, she tipped her head up to look him in the eye. For one second, all his guards were down, all his drawl and facetious lechery and pureblood arrogance were gone, and she could see the maelstrom of his emotions swirling like liquid silver in his burning eyes. And then it was over, the lines of his face shifted back into that familiar sneer and his eyes flattened to a steely gray.

‘I would hex you until there was nothing left of your pitiful, _Mudblood_ , body,’ he hissed, leaning over her menacingly, ‘but you’re just not worthy of my time.’

Snapping away from her, he favoured her with one final sneer before sweeping from the room, robes billowing like a ghost of the other man to make her childhood hell. Closing the door shakily behind him, she dropped into the chair in front of her desk and dropped her head in her hands.


	8. Working Together: Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves, with the kind of guy she...hates?

‘Malfoy?’ A familiar voice called his name as he swept down the narrow corridors of the Ministry, the air around him seeming to crackle with his anger and righteous indignation. He stopped moving with an abruptness that only Aurors could manage. Harry Potter, who had called him, saw the tight lines of his face and residual billow of his robe, and approached him cautiously. ‘Hey,’ he said casually. ‘Had lunch yet?’

For a moment Malfoy could only stare at him, the friendly invitation so disparate from the hissing, shreiking, emotionally scarring fight he’d just left, that he could barely process it. Suddenly he shook his head, took a deep breath, and swallowed his emotions. ‘Not yet,’ he replied quietly.

‘Good,’ Harry responded cheerfully, ‘take your robes off.’

‘Now, now, Potter,’ Malfoy drawled, lifting his hands as if to ward him off. ‘I know my distracting good looks are enough to crack that thin facade of hetrosexuality you like to project, but I just don’t bend that way.’

Harry laughed. ‘It’s a muggle place, you tosser.’ Seeing Malfoy wince at the word, Harry frowned, intrigued. ‘Okay,’ he said calmly, ‘we’ll go to Fortescues.’ He wondered if he had imagined the fleeting look of gratitude that flashed through Malfoy’s eyes.

 

When the shudders of fear had calmed, Hermione rose from her chair and began to lift the fallen books back onto her desk. She managed three before she felt the tears break free.

 

‘Wow,’ Harry muttered, wincing. ‘I thought you guys were getting on really well,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve barely seen you for the last month, you’re always working with Hermione, having lunch with Hermione, hidden in the Ministry library with Hermione.’

Malfoy shrugged, not bothering to deny the truth of Harry’s words. ‘Maybe that’s the point,’ he commented, scrubbing a hand over his face, ‘we’ve been spending too much time together. I mean, we get along okay, but that doesn’t mean we don’t do things that annoy each other.’

Harry watched him carefully. ‘Are you sure that’s the only thing?’

Malfoy considered. ‘Well, we have sort of hit a brick wall with this project,’ he admitted. ‘She’s been driving me nuts fretting about,’ he closed his eyes, ‘about having to tell her superiors,’ he muttered, realising why she was so mad. He’d promised to back her up, to be with her when she had to tell them. He just hadn’t known it was _today_.

Harry shook his head. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. ‘You may not have noticed, Potter,’ he muttered, ‘but my patience is a little frayed today.’

Harry ignored him. ‘I seem to remember a similar fight about a month after we started working together,’ he explained. Malfoy frowned. ‘When you punched me in the face?’ he prompted. Malfoy coloured.

‘That was different,’ he muttered.

‘I don’t think it was,’ Harry insisted. ‘You told me you get defensive when you feel yourself getting close to anyone.’

Malfoy yelped. ‘What? When did I say that?’

‘When you got completely wankered on tequila shots on your twenty fifth,’ Harry said casually.

Malfoy looked at him, impressed. ‘And you’ve been sitting on that information all this time?’ he asked. ‘How very Slytherin of you.’

‘Thank you,’ Harry responded, knowing by now that Malfoy considered that a compliment. Harry smirked. ‘The best bit,’ Harry added, ‘is that that’s not the only thing you told me that night.’

Malfoy frowned. ‘What else?’ he asked, casting about fruitlessly in his mind.

Harry winked. ‘Another time,’ was all he would say. ‘Now,’ he said, standing and dropping some Galleons in the metal dish holding their bill, ‘I think you’ve got a fluffy-haired witch to apologise to.’

Malfoy grimaced, and began to follow Harry out. Suddenly his description of Hermione registered. ‘Fluffy-haired witch?’ he mouthed to himself, wondering why the description seemed worryingly familiar.

 

They found Hermione huddled by the side of her desk, clutching a huge book close to her chest and crying. Something indescribable wrenching at his heart, Malfoy started forward, only to find his way blocked by Harry’s hand. He frowned at Harry, who mouthed ‘Not yet.’

She started in shock, and fear, when she felt Harry’s hand on her shoulder. Seeing the concern in his deep, green eyes, she cried, ‘Oh, Harry!’ and flung herself into his arms, weeping into his shoulder.

Harry shushed her, holding her close and stroking her soft hair. ‘I...was...so...mean...to him,’ she gasped, her words filling Malfoy with shame. She was crying, not out of hurt at his words, but over hurt she might have caused him. ‘And...I was so...scared,’ she wept. Malfoy remembered how he’d towered over her, threatened her, and closed his eyes. Suddenly he heard a gasp and opened his eyes to see her watching him over Harry’s shoulder.

She pulled back from Harry, still sitting in the circle of his arm, but facing Malfoy squarely. He began to move towards her, slowly as if he approached a nervous creature. She gulped, but stayed in place. When he got close to her, he reached into his robes and pulled out a crisp white cotton handkerchief. Kneeling in front of her, he dabbed gently at her tears, before pressing it into her hand.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, ‘Draco.’

He started at her use of his first name, nodding stiffly. ‘I’m...’ he coughed, ‘about what I said...’

Hermione reached out and touched his fluttering hand. ‘Me too,’ she said quietly. He stared at her, her flushed cheeks, her wide brown eyes full of earnest appeal, and it was too much for him.

‘Good,’ he said, moving back, and removing his hand from her grasp.

Harry reached out to squeeze Malfoy’s shoulder encouragingly, stroked Hermione’s hair comfortingly, and left them to it.

‘I should...’she muttered, gesturing to the tumble of tomes on the floor.

‘Let me,’ he said, reaching for one and carefully setting it on the desk.

Smiling at him, she gently rubbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. Why did she let him help her? She was always so proud of being independent, being equal to men, to other witches and wizards. Why did she seem to turn into a distressed damsel whenever he was around? It was unsettling. Determined to pull her weight, she reached out for a book and found her hands curled round his.

‘Sorry,’ she said quickly, her cheeks flushing, as she snatched her hands back and reached for another book. As she moved it, she dislodged a piece of paper that seemed to have been trapped between this book and another.

Absent-mindedly setting the book on the desk, she reached for the paper and scanned it, feeling the cogs turning in her brain, her heart thumping with the excitement of a new idea. It was the internal memo they had been having their paper fight on weeks ago. ‘Malfoy,’ she gasped, clutching his arm as she pushed herself into a standing position.

He looked up at her, his slender brows raised in interest.

She smiled down at him, beaming with relief. ‘I’ve got an idea!’


	9. Working Together: Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves, with the kind of guy she...hates?

‘Malfoy?’ A familiar voice called his name as he swept down the narrow corridors of the Ministry, the air around him seeming to crackle with his anger and righteous indignation. He stopped moving with an abruptness that only Aurors could manage. Harry Potter, who had called him, saw the tight lines of his face and residual billow of his robe, and approached him cautiously. ‘Hey,’ he said casually. ‘Had lunch yet?’

For a moment Malfoy could only stare at him, the friendly invitation so disparate from the hissing, shreiking, emotionally scarring fight he’d just left, that he could barely process it. Suddenly he shook his head, took a deep breath, and swallowed his emotions. ‘Not yet,’ he replied quietly.

‘Good,’ Harry responded cheerfully, ‘take your robes off.’

‘Now, now, Potter,’ Malfoy drawled, lifting his hands as if to ward him off. ‘I know my distracting good looks are enough to crack that thin facade of hetrosexuality you like to project, but I just don’t bend that way.’

Harry laughed. ‘It’s a muggle place, you tosser.’ Seeing Malfoy wince at the word, Harry frowned, intrigued. ‘Okay,’ he said calmly, ‘we’ll go to Fortescues.’ He wondered if he had imagined the fleeting look of gratitude that flashed through Malfoy’s eyes.

 

When the shudders of fear had calmed, Hermione rose from her chair and began to lift the fallen books back onto her desk. She managed three before she felt the tears break free.

 

‘Wow,’ Harry muttered, wincing. ‘I thought you guys were getting on really well,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve barely seen you for the last month, you’re always working with Hermione, having lunch with Hermione, hidden in the Ministry library with Hermione.’

Malfoy shrugged, not bothering to deny the truth of Harry’s words. ‘Maybe that’s the point,’ he commented, scrubbing a hand over his face, ‘we’ve been spending too much time together. I mean, we get along okay, but that doesn’t mean we don’t do things that annoy each other.’

Harry watched him carefully. ‘Are you sure that’s the only thing?’

Malfoy considered. ‘Well, we have sort of hit a brick wall with this project,’ he admitted. ‘She’s been driving me nuts fretting about,’ he closed his eyes, ‘about having to tell her superiors,’ he muttered, realising why she was so mad. He’d promised to back her up, to be with her when she had to tell them. He just hadn’t known it was _today_.

Harry shook his head. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. ‘You may not have noticed, Potter,’ he muttered, ‘but my patience is a little frayed today.’

Harry ignored him. ‘I seem to remember a similar fight about a month after we started working together,’ he explained. Malfoy frowned. ‘When you punched me in the face?’ he prompted. Malfoy coloured.

‘That was different,’ he muttered.

‘I don’t think it was,’ Harry insisted. ‘You told me you get defensive when you feel yourself getting close to anyone.’

Malfoy yelped. ‘What? When did I say that?’

‘When you got completely wankered on tequila shots on your twenty fifth,’ Harry said casually.

Malfoy looked at him, impressed. ‘And you’ve been sitting on that information all this time?’ he asked. ‘How very Slytherin of you.’

‘Thank you,’ Harry responded, knowing by now that Malfoy considered that a compliment. Harry smirked. ‘The best bit,’ Harry added, ‘is that that’s not the only thing you told me that night.’

Malfoy frowned. ‘What else?’ he asked, casting about fruitlessly in his mind.

Harry winked. ‘Another time,’ was all he would say. ‘Now,’ he said, standing and dropping some Galleons in the metal dish holding their bill, ‘I think you’ve got a fluffy-haired witch to apologise to.’

Malfoy grimaced, and began to follow Harry out. Suddenly his description of Hermione registered. ‘Fluffy-haired witch?’ he mouthed to himself, wondering why the description seemed worryingly familiar.

 

They found Hermione huddled by the side of her desk, clutching a huge book close to her chest and crying. Something indescribable wrenching at his heart, Malfoy started forward, only to find his way blocked by Harry’s hand. He frowned at Harry, who mouthed ‘Not yet.’

She started in shock, and fear, when she felt Harry’s hand on her shoulder. Seeing the concern in his deep, green eyes, she cried, ‘Oh, Harry!’ and flung herself into his arms, weeping into his shoulder.

Harry shushed her, holding her close and stroking her soft hair. ‘I...was...so...mean...to him,’ she gasped, her words filling Malfoy with shame. She was crying, not out of hurt at his words, but over hurt she might have caused him. ‘And...I was so...scared,’ she wept. Malfoy remembered how he’d towered over her, threatened her, and closed his eyes. Suddenly he heard a gasp and opened his eyes to see her watching him over Harry’s shoulder.

She pulled back from Harry, still sitting in the circle of his arm, but facing Malfoy squarely. He began to move towards her, slowly as if he approached a nervous creature. She gulped, but stayed in place. When he got close to her, he reached into his robes and pulled out a crisp white cotton handkerchief. Kneeling in front of her, he dabbed gently at her tears, before pressing it into her hand.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, ‘Draco.’

He started at her use of his first name, nodding stiffly. ‘I’m...’ he coughed, ‘about what I said...’

Hermione reached out and touched his fluttering hand. ‘Me too,’ she said quietly. He stared at her, her flushed cheeks, her wide brown eyes full of earnest appeal, and it was too much for him.

‘Good,’ he said, moving back, and removing his hand from her grasp.

Harry reached out to squeeze Malfoy’s shoulder encouragingly, stroked Hermione’s hair comfortingly, and left them to it.

‘I should...’she muttered, gesturing to the tumble of tomes on the floor.

‘Let me,’ he said, reaching for one and carefully setting it on the desk.

Smiling at him, she gently rubbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. Why did she let him help her? She was always so proud of being independent, being equal to men, to other witches and wizards. Why did she seem to turn into a distressed damsel whenever he was around? It was unsettling. Determined to pull her weight, she reached out for a book and found her hands curled round his.

‘Sorry,’ she said quickly, her cheeks flushing, as she snatched her hands back and reached for another book. As she moved it, she dislodged a piece of paper that seemed to have been trapped between this book and another.

Absent-mindedly setting the book on the desk, she reached for the paper and scanned it, feeling the cogs turning in her brain, her heart thumping with the excitement of a new idea. It was the internal memo they had been having their paper fight on weeks ago. ‘Malfoy,’ she gasped, clutching his arm as she pushed herself into a standing position.

He looked up at her, his slender brows raised in interest.

She smiled down at him, beaming with relief. ‘I’ve got an idea!’


	10. Working Together Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves with the kind of guy she...hates?

Padding back into the living room of her flat, Hermione pulled her hair out of its ponytail and wondered what to have for dinner.

More than a week after her idea, they had read every book even remotely related to the subject from both her library and that of the Ministry and come up with nothing. Malfoy had left about an hour ago to check the Manor library, and she had decided to bring her notes back and work in the comfort of her own home.

She wandered barefoot into the kitchen to see what she had to eat, idly opening the cupboards, fridge and freezer without ever taking in what she was seeing, her mind still wrapped up in the puzzle presented by her project.

She was just closing her fridge door for the third time, when there was a _whoosh_ from the living room, and the sound of someone stepping out of her fireplace. She turned and headed back to the living room.

‘H!’ Malfoy was yelling. ‘Where are-oh’ he said, dropping his voice and doing one of his abrupt halts at the sight of her. She had changed when she came home, her voluminous work robes swapped for denim shorts and a little t-shirt.

‘Malfoy?’ she asked. ‘What are you doing in my apartment?’

‘Oh!’ he cried, remembering why he was here. ‘I found it! The book I went home for!’ Her eyes widened with interest.

‘And?’ she asked, quickly crossing the room to where he was standing in front of the fireplace.

‘It’s in here,’ he said, nodding. ‘You know, H, I think we need to have a talk about your work attire,’ he said seriously. Hermione raised an eyebrow, waiting for the punchline. ‘I mean, if you have this kind of thing in your wardrobe, I don’t think it should be confined to home wear.’ He smirked lecherously at her. Hermione rolled her eyes.

‘Malfoy,’ she said, ‘not right now.’

He flipped open the large potions book he had brought from home, his mind analysing her words under his ‘Slytherin filter’. According to the Slytherin filter, _Not right now_ implied that she would be amenable to a later. He smirked for a moment before wondering when he had started to hope for a _later_ with her. He frowned, clearly this was something to be suppressed quickly.

‘Right,’ he said, all business again, ‘it’s this potion here. _Creates a magical connection between items so that any modifications made to one will be replicated on the other(s). Although most frequently used to create protection amulets, the potion is most effective when used with parchment and ink_.’

‘That’s perfect!’ Hermione cried, her eyes wide with renewed excitement.

He smirked. ‘Remember to breathe, H,’ he drawled casually. Hermione flushed and elbowed him in the side, using the moment of weakness to grab the book from him.

‘Hmm,’ she muttered, ‘it’s not clear whether the potion works both ways.’

‘It also takes 120 days to brew the potion,’ he commented.

‘And another 60 days to steep the parchment,’ she finished, reading from the book. ‘It doesn’t mention a range,’ she murmured.

‘We’ll have to do some testing when we get it done,’ he commented, about to settle himself on the sofa.

‘Well, we might as well begin now,’ she said, wedging a finger between the pages to hold her place as she started to stride towards a back room in her apartment.

‘You have a _potions lab_ in here?’ he asked, bemused.

She flushed slightly. ‘Sometimes I have ideas in the middle of the night,’ she commented. ‘I like to try them out at home.’

‘Yeah,’ Malfoy drawled, leaning on the open doorway of the lab, ‘I get that too.’ She looked up to see him smirking laciviously from the doorway and flushed, clearing her throat and laying out the book with unnecessary precision.

Malfoy mentally smacked himself upside the head. He had to _stop_ doing that. This was Granger, Harry Potter’s best friend, a witch who prided herself on her independance and was really far too proficient with some truly disturbing hexes. Discounting the blood thing, which he knew was no longer a problem, she was nothing like his type. Even if she did have distractingly shapely calves. And a really great sense of humour. No! Bad brain. Wait, she was speaking to him.

‘We should get started on this.’


	11. Working Together Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves with the kind of guy she...hates?

Light was shining in her eyes. Hermione groaned, wishing she had remembered to shut her bedroom curtains the night before. Squeezing her eyes tighter shut, she wriggled closer to the warm body snuggled against her, and tried to fall back asleep.

Suddenly there was an amused cough, and a familiar voice whispered, ‘H, you have guests,’ in her ear.

Hermione’s eyes snapped open. Sitting up sharply, she was saved from tumbling off her own couch purely by Malfoy’s quick grasp of her elbow. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered to Malfoy, mortified that she had cuddled up to him in her sleep.

Malfoy shrugged carelessly, ‘There’re worse ways to wake up,’ he drawled. ‘Maybe we’ll make it to the bedroom next time,’ he added, winking at her. ‘Morning, Potter,’ he said, rising from the couch and stretching languidly.

‘Malfoy,’ Harry smirked. ‘Enjoy your slumber party?’

Malfoy frowned at Harry, wondering why he wasn’t more annoyed about this. ‘Well, I could have done without the _rude_ awakening,’ he yawned. ‘H!’ he called back.

‘Yeah?’ she asked, happy for a reason to look away from Ginny’s probing gaze.

‘Spare toothbrush anywhere?’

She shook her head, her loose hair tumbling back and forth over her shoulders. ‘Just _Geminio_ mine,’ she said.

He considered this for a moment. Then he shrugged and padded off to the bathroom.

‘Hermione?’ Ginny said, sitting down next to her.

‘We were working on the project, and we fell asleep when we stopped for dinner,’ Hermione said, knowing exactly what Ginny was asking.

‘Are you sure that’s all?’ Ginny asked. ‘You can tell us, you know,’ she said earnestly, ‘if there’s something going on with you and Malfoy...’

‘Ginny,’ Hermione said, smiling at the youngest Weasley, ‘I promise, if anything was going on with me and _anyone_ I’d tell you. We just wanted to get started on the potion.’

‘You’ve got something?’ Harry asked, intrigued.

‘Yeah,’ Hermione said, rising from the couch and gesturing to her potions lab, ‘it’s a potion for soaking parchment and things. But it takes 180 days so...’

Harry’s eyes widened. ‘I can see why you’d want to get started right away,’ he commented.

‘Exactly. Let me just wash up and I’ll be right back.’

Leaving them in the living room, Hermione strode through to the bathroom. ‘Hope you’re decent,’ she called, opening the door.

‘Never,’ Malfoy muttered reproachfully, ‘I am always exemplary.’

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘You have toothpaste on your nose,’ she chuckled, reaching up to swipe it off.

He looked at her oddly as she wiped her hands on a piece of toilet paper. ‘Sorry about that,’ she commented, gesturing to the living room. ‘I forgot it’s my weekend to make brunch.’

He nodded calmly. ‘As long as Potter isn’t out there waiting to hex me into next week.’

Hermione laughed. ‘No, it’s alright. He understands that there’s nothing like that between us.’

‘Exactly,’ Malfoy said quietly. ‘Well,’ he asked after an awkward moment, ‘am I decent?’

Hermione smiled at him. ‘Exemplary,’ she said firmly.

Winking at her, he slipped out of the bathroom, leaving her to get ready.

‘Malfoy!’ she called, just before he shut the door.

‘You screeched?’ he asked, leaning back into the bathroom.

‘D’you want to stay for brunch?’ she asked quickly.

Her considered her offer long enough to make her consider taking it back. ‘I could do brunch,’ he decided finally.


	12. Working Together Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves with the kind of guy she...hates?

Peering over her shoulder, Malfoy watched, pale brows furrowed, as Hermione sprinkled the last ingredient into their potion. Without looking at him, she stirred it to make sure the mix was even. And stirred it some more. And then stirred it again.

‘So,’ Malfoy asked, leaning back against the wall, ‘is that...it?’ he asked, softly.

They were in Hermione’s work potions lab, a smaller and much poorer room than her home lab, located on the other side of her library. After a month of planning, testing, gathering and preparing rare ingredients, and performing the initial stages, they were finally finished mixing the potion.

‘Um,’ finally letting go of the stirrer, Hermione pushed curls of cinnamon brown hair back from her flushed face and reviewed the instructions in Draco’s book, drawing a neat finger down the edge as she re-read each stage. ‘Looks like it,’ she said quietly.

‘So now it just...bubbles?’ Draco asked, wondering why he was drawing this out. As soon as they had finished mixing the potion, he could go. Back to his own office, back to the Auror Department and people who made sense and knew about personal boundaries. With the solution bubbling away, and no other research or work necessary for the project until it was time to steep the parchment, the project would be put on the back burner, as it were, and they would go back to their separate work.

‘Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,’ Hermione whispered, smiling. Noting Malfoy’s quirked eyebrow, she flushed further. ‘Yes,’ she confirmed. ‘There’s...nothing else for us to do,’ she finished. ‘For now.’

 _Nothing else to do for this_ she clarified mentally, thinking of all the other projects she had waiting for her to claw some free time back from this project. She was really going to look forward to having her office, and her day, back to herself. Wasn’t she?

‘Right,’ Malfoy said, pushing off from the wall and striding through to her main office. By the time he had scooped up the few personal effects that had migrated through to her office during their time working together; his favourite quill, his coffee mug, the snitch from the only fair game he ever won against Harry, Hermione was standing in the doorway of her library watching him. ‘Well,’ he coughed, ‘I guess I’ll see you in four months then,’ he muttered.

‘Right,’ she said, nodding her head sharply. ‘Don’t be late.’

Draco looked affronted. ‘Malfoys are never late,’ he declared theatrically, ‘everyone else is simply early.’

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘That excuse doesn’t work with potions,’ she retorted, smirking at him. ‘And don’t think I don’t know which _muggle movie_ you stole that from,’ she added.

Draco chuckled, and winked roguishly at her. ‘Take care of yourself, H,’ he murmured. Before he knew what he was doing, he had leant down and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. Hermione stared after him as he swept out of her office before she could reply.


	13. Working Together Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves with the kind of guy she...hates?

Somehow it took Hermione all the first Draco-free morning to get her office right. No matter how she turned her desk and shuffled her seat, there was just something not quite right. In the end she re-organised her library instead.

 

‘Hey, Malfoy,’ Harry asked, sticking his head round Draco’s office door. ‘Glad to be back?’

‘Mm,’ Draco murmured, frowning at the room. ‘Did you move something?’ he asked distractedly.

‘Haven’t been in since you left,’ Harry said, watching him closely. Draco continued to frown as he looked around.

‘Hmm,’ he said quietly.

 

It took three days before Hermione broke herself of the habit of buying Draco’s coffee on her way to work in the morning. _That’ll be some money I don’t have to spend_ , she thought to herself. _Come to think of it_ , she added, _he never did pay me back for those_. She tapped her finger absent-mindedly on the desk. _Maybe I should go down there and ask for the money? No_ , she decided after a moment, _that would seem-_ be _, that would_ be _petty_.  
Pouring the coffee down the sink, she sighed without noticing and turned over a piece of parchment.

 

It was driving him crazy. He couldn’t work, he couldn’t think. No one was tapping their finger on their desk, and it was driving him slowly bonkers. By the end of the first week, he found that he had started to do it himself. Suddenly realising what he was doing, he sat on both hands as he tried to read the report in front of him.

 

Leaning in Hermione’s door one morning, Harry found Hermione staring at her vast magical window, and sighing.

‘Slacker,’ he commented lightly.

Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice, twisting in her desk chair to see who it was. ‘Hi, Harry,’ she said distractedly. ‘What?’

Stepping further into the room, Harry dropped into one of the re-transfigured guest chairs and grinned at her. ‘I said “Slacker”,’ he commented. ‘This,’ he waved a hand at her rain gazing, ‘is not the workaholic Hermione I’ve known for years.’

‘Oh,’ she said quietly. ‘Malfoy always insisted on taking a break about now,’ she commented quietly. ‘It was as long as he could stand in one place. I guess I just got used to it.’

‘Hey,’ Harry said gently, ‘I didn’t say it was a _bad_ thing. It’s good for you to slow down a bit.’

‘Mm,’ she said, frowning slightly.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Hermione said quickly. ‘I’ve finally got my office back, why should anything be wrong?’

Crossing his hands across his abdomen, Harry stretched his legs out beneath Hermione’s desk and regarded her calmly. ‘Well, for a start, your window – which I know you choose yourself – is in the middle of a downpour. Secondly, you’re staring at said downpour and _sighing_ -’

‘I was _not_ sighing,’ Hermione said sharply. ‘Was I?’ Harry nodded, firmly.

‘As if that wasn’t enough, your quick denial that _anything_ should be wrong, specifically that anything should be wrong with Malfoy being gone, was obvious enough that even _Ron_ would pick it up.’

Hermione smiled fondly. ‘How is he?’ she asked. ‘I’ve hardly heard from him lately.’

‘He’s fine,’ Harry said. ‘The team are out in Bulgaria training with your other ex-boyfriend,’ he commented slyly, smiling when Hermione blushed and glared at him, ‘so he’s having a grand old time. Now stop changing the subject.’

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t get any work done!’ she cried, letting loose her frustration. ‘I was _sure_ that once Malfoy was gone I could get back to powering through my work, but now...’

‘What?’ Harry asked, watching her.

‘I keep listening for him,’ she explained quietly. ‘I keep waiting for him to interrupt me because he’s thought of something, or found something interesting, or because he’s bored,’ Harry chuckled, ‘and it never happens so I just keep...waiting for it.’

Standing, Harry stepped round the desk to lean against the side next to her. ‘Malfoy,’ he commented, ‘is a very...pervasive person,’ he assured her. ‘Give it time, I’m sure you’ll forget about it soon,’ he added, pecking her on the cheek. She smiled up at him. ‘Wanna meet up for lunch?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, sounds good,’ she said, ‘I hate eating lunch on my own,’ Harry looked surprised, Hermione used to love eating lunch on her own – it gave her more time to work, ‘now,’ she clarified. Harry nodded, watching her curiously.

 

‘Harry?’ Malfoy called, peering around Harry’s office door to find his room empty.

‘You called?’ A voice said, behind him.

Turning, he found Harry leaning against the door frame smirking at him. ‘Your “Slytherin” is improving,’ Malfoy commented.

‘Yeah, he’s alright,’ Harry countered, winking at Draco.

‘Funny, Potter,’ Malfoy growled, following him into his office.

‘What did you want?’ Harry asked, sitting behind his desk.

‘Just wondering if you were up for lunch today,’ Malfoy commented casually.

‘Bugger,’ Harry cursed, ‘I would, but I’ve just agreed to have lunch with Hermione,’ he explained.

‘Hey, your loss,’ Malfoy smirked. He paused for a moment. ‘How is she?’ he asked quietly. ‘I mean, the potion. How is she doing with the potion?’ he added quickly.

‘ _She_ is doing fine, getting used to not having someone interrupting her all the time,’ Malfoy glared at him, ‘I don’t know how the potion’s doing, we didn’t talk about it.’

‘Right,’ Malfoy said, nodding absently. ‘Well, I’d better get back to...’ he tailed off, heading out the door. Sitting behind his desk, Harry watched him go and felt something green and silver start to work in his mind.


	14. Working Together Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves with the kind of guy she...hates?

‘It’s Hermione’s birthday today,’ Harry commented calmly, sitting back in his seat and watching Malfoy across the table. They were at Fortescues for lunch again, and they had just finished the kind of meal that made Harry exceedingly glad to have quite so many taste buds.

Quirking an eyebrow, Malfoy returned his stare. ‘Did you have a reason for sharing this information, or are we just playing “Show and Tell”?’ he drawled.

‘How do you know about Show and Tell?’ Harry asked, bemused. Malfoy smirked and rolled his eyes, and Harry grinned. ‘Hermione,’ he deduced.

‘Has decided,’ Malfoy explained, ‘that, as prejudice stems from ignorance, I should be educated about all things muggle.’

Harry tried to suppress a smile. ‘About Hermione’s birthday…’

‘Salazar’s ghost, Potter, you are relentless. What makes you think I would want to know?’ Draco asked, tossing his napkin on his empty plate in exasperation.

Harry shrugged. ‘You’re…friends, aren’t you?’ he asked calmly. ‘Friends celebrate each other’s birthdays.’

Draco sneered. ‘Don’t kid yourself, Potter. Granger and I are work colleagues, and barely that. I haven’t seen her in a month.’

‘Been counting the days?’ Harry asked smoothly.

Draco glowered at the other man. ‘Don’t make me punch you in the face again, Potter.’

Harry held up his hands. ‘I just thought you’d be interested in coming to Hermione’s party tonight.’

‘Did she say she wants me there?’ Malfoy asked softly.

Harry looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, no,’ he admitted. ‘But only because she didn’t know I would be talking to you,’ he added quickly.

‘Harry,’ Draco responded scathingly. ‘You talk to me everyday. She’s had plenty of opportunity.’

‘Come anyway,’ Harry said. ‘I’m sure she’d be happy to see you once you were there.’

Draco sneered at him. ‘You may not have been taught this, Potter, but it is the height of rudeness to attend a party which the guest of honour has not invited you to attend.’

‘Malfoy,’ Harry tried again.

‘Drop it, Potter,’ Draco said firmly.

‘Fine,’ Harry sulked. ‘Back to the office?’ he asked, leaving money for the bill.

‘Not yet,’ Draco said casually, ‘My favourite quill broke so I need another. I might as well get it from Flourish and Blotts while I’m here. You go ahead, I’ll catch you up.’

‘Okay,’ Harry agreed, standing from the table as Draco dropped his half of the bill onto the little silver dish.

Malfoy rose and departed the café, leaving Harry to floo back to the Ministry. Watching Malfoy lope into Hermione’s favourite shop, Harry smirked and stepped into the fire.


	15. Working Together Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves with the kind of guy she...hates?

Looking around, Hermione smiled absently at those gathered, as she scanned the crowd of friends for one face. Suddenly, there was a rush of air from the fireplace and Harry stepped out next to her, shaking soot from his messy black hair and sweeping her up into a hug.

‘Happy Birthday, Hermione,’ he beamed at her. Hermione smiled at him.

‘Thanks Harry,’ she said, gesturing to the collection of friends milling about in the foyer of an expensive wizard restaurant, waiting to celebrate her birthday in style. ‘This is great,’ she added.

Harry grinned at her. ‘Well,’ he said jovially, ‘shall we go through?’

‘Oh,’ Hermione said quietly. ‘Is everyone here?’

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Looks like it,’ he said cheerfully, ‘were you expecting anyone else?’ he asked slyly.

Hermione sighed softly. ‘I thought he might…’ tailing off, she smiled warmly at Harry. ‘No,’ she said firmly, ‘looks like all my friends are here.’ Unnoticed, Harry rolled his eyes at her back, before taking her arm and ushering everyone through to the table.

 

‘Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you.’ Hermione smiled with embarrassment as her friends sang her birthday cake to the table. She laughed when it was set down - it had been iced to look like the cover of _Hogwarts: A History_ – and glared at Harry, who was surely the culprit. Harry just winked and called ‘Make a wish!’

Bending over the cake, she closed her eyes and blew out the candles. She opened her eyes again, just in time to see a flash of platinum blonde hair moving away from the restaurant window.

Murmuring excuses distractedly, she ran out of the restaurant, looking for Draco. Suddenly she could see him, halfway down the street.

‘Malfoy!’ she yelled. He turned to see her waving. ‘Wait!’ she called, starting to run towards him.

She was too far away to see his expression, but she did see him bow to her, before she heard the distinctive ‘pop’ as he disappeared from in front of her.

‘Son of a Blast Ended Skrewt,’ she gasped, panting from her run and earning herself some disapproving glares for her language.

‘Hermione!’ There was a hand on her shoulder and Harry was behind her, looking down at her with concern in his eyes. ‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘Stupid ferret,’ she muttered darkly.

‘Malfoy?’ Harry was surprised. ‘What was he doing here?’

‘Stalking me, apparently,’ she remarked caustically. ‘I saw him outside the restaurant, then when I called his name he just bowed and _Apparated_ without a word.’

‘Hmm,’ Harry said, wondering what Malfoy was playing at. ‘Come on,’ he said, wrapping an arm around Hermione and drawing her back towards the restaurant, ‘before Ron eats all the cake.’

Hermione laughed warmly.

 

‘’Night!’ Hermione called, waving and hugging everyone. For a few moments the air outside the restaurant was deafening with the sounds of _Apparition_ , and then finally there were only the four of them left.

‘'Night, Hermione,’ Ginny said, reaching out to hug her. ‘Happy Birthday again,’ she said.

‘Thanks, Gin,’ Hermione said, hugging her friend. Stepping back, Ginny nodded at her brother, winked at her husband, and _Apparated_ home.

‘So,’ Hermione started, smiling fondly at her boys.

‘Harry,’ Ron said, sounding worried, ‘I think she’s gonna cry.’

Harry peered at Hermione. ‘I think you’re right,’ he said objectively. ‘But, then,’ he added, ‘it wouldn’t be her birthday if she didn’t cry. Remember her eighteenth?’ he asked, rhetorically.

‘Or her twenty-first!’ Ron shuddered, ‘I didn’t know anyone could lose that much water.’

‘But the worst one,’ Harry said dramatically.

‘The very worst,’ Ron smirked.

‘Was her twenty fifth,’ Harry finished.

‘Swear to Godric, I thought they were gonna lock her away in the mental ward,’ Ron said, shaking his head ruefully.

‘Eurgh,’ Hermione growled wetly. ‘You wretched boys!’ she cried, squeezing them both tightly before stepping back and smiling at them.

‘Got you to stop crying,’ Ron commented, smirking.

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘Evil boy,’ she said wrinkling her nose at him. ‘Thanks for coming,’ she smiled.

‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ Ron said, winking at her before he _Apparated_ away.

‘Happy Birthday, ‘Mione,’ Harry said warmly, tousling her hair and kissing her on the forehead.

‘Thanks Harry,’ she smiled.

‘I’ll have a word with Malfoy on Monday,’ he called, just before he _Apparated_.

Hermione stayed in the street for a moment, lost in her thoughts as she smiled distractedly at the space Harry had just left. Malfoy. She frowned unconsciously, what _had_ Malfoy been up to? Biting her lip thoughtfully, she decided it was too late at night to be trying to unravel the mystery of Malfoy. Gathering her presents, she took a breath and _Apparated_.

 

Landing neatly in her living room, Hermione went to put her gifts on her pristine coffee table, only to find that there was something already there. Setting her bags on the floor instead, she sat on the couch in front of the item and peered at it cautiously.  
It was a box, about the same size as her hand, wrapped in plain brown paper with a plain white label on top. Leaning closer, she felt her eyes widen as she read the terse inscription.

_H-_

_-DM_

_That's it?_ she thought, disappointed. Reaching out she carefully peeled off the label and unwrapped the parcel. Reaching into the box, she frowned as she pulled out an ink pot.

'Wow, Malfoy, you really know how to spoil a girl,' she said, turning the ink pot carefully in her hands. On the other side, there was a gold edged label with dark purple writing.

_Flourish and Blotts' Untippable Ink Pot_

Untippable? She raised an eyebrow in interest as she placed the ink pot on the table and gave it a nudge. Nothing happened. Emboldened, she gave it a push, and then a shove. It remained still. Lifting the pot, Hermione headed to her bedroom to change. 'Not bad, ferret,' she muttered to herself, 'not bad at all.'


	16. Working Together Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves with the kind of guy she...hates?

Hermione was dancing. Decked out in a red and gold dress, she was being whirled around an elegant dance floor by a tall man; her cheek resting against his chest as he waltzed her expertly. She shifted slightly as her partner leant close and whispered, ‘You, would make the _worst_ Auror.’

Startled, Hermione leant back to find herself in Malfoy’s arms. Looking down she found that her dress had changed from red and gold to green and silver. Looking back up at him, she frowned disapprovingly. ‘Malfoy, stop it. And what are you doing in my dream?’ she asked, sharply.

He smirked down at her. ‘Ah, but H, I’m not _in_ your dream. I’m in your _bed_.’

Snapping her eyes open, Hermione tilted her head to see Malfoy leaning over her, and smirking. ‘H,’ he said, as calmly as if they had met at a garden party, or in the supermarket.

‘Malfoy!’ she squeaked. ‘Get. Out. Of. My. Bed.’

‘Oh, alright,’ he muttered, rising lithely from his semi-recumbent position on top of her covers. ‘But you’d better hurry up, we don’t have a lot of time,’ he said, striding out of her room.

Cursing herself for her curiosity that made her unable ignore his statement, and him for taking advantage of it, Hermione tumbled out of bed, grabbing sleepily for the dressing gown she always hung up behind her bedroom door.

‘MALFOY!’ she yelled, as her hand met thin air. ‘GIVE MY ROBE BACK!’

‘Why of course, H,’ he called smoothly from the living room. ‘As soon as you come and get it.’

‘Perverted ferret,’ she muttered, shivering a little as she made her way through to the living room.

‘Very nice,’ Malfoy said, taking in her short, silky night gown as he dangled the dressing gown in front of her.

‘Time for what?’ Hermione asked, ignoring his leering as she snatched the dressing gown out of his hand and wrapped it around herself.

‘The potion,’ Malfoy said, smugly. Before she could respond, he turned on the spot and disappeared.

Growling, Hermione took a guess at his destination and turned after him.

 

‘Ah, you made it,’ a voice drawled from behind her.

‘Malfoy,’ Hermione growled, ‘first, never _Apparate_ on me in the middle of a conversation again, second, there’s another _thirty days_ before we have to take the potion off the heat.’

‘Actually, there’s not,’ Malfoy said, dropping his swagger a little and perching on one of the potions stools. ‘I was rereading the instructions for the potion – since it was getting closer to the end,’ he added, ‘and it’s one hundred and twenty days from the addition of the _first_ ingredient, not the last.’

Wide-eyed, Hermione slumped onto a stool next to him. ‘I don’t know how I missed that,’ she murmured, her hands covering her mouth as she realised how badly the potion could have gone wrong if it had over-stewed.

‘It’s alright,’ Draco said, carefully reaching out a hand to pat her on the shoulder. ‘We caught it in time.’

She looked up at him sharply. _We_. Did he even realise he’d said it? This was a perfect chance for him to show her up, strut about with yet more proof of his perfection, but he was just making sure they made the potion right. It was so...nice of him. Later she’d blame it on relief, or being woken up in the middle of the night. But now, when he looked at her – so confused – and asked, ‘What?’ she couldn’t help but fling her arms round his waist.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured into his chest.

‘It’s just a potion,’ he muttered, carefully wrapping his arms around her. Hermione smiled to herself, let him think that was all she’d meant. Pulling back, she brushed her hair out of her face and cleared her throat.

‘So, we should take this potion off the boil,’ she said, calmly.

‘Right,’ Draco said, reaching out and stopping the flames with a flick of his wand. ‘Well,’ he muttered awkwardly.

‘That was easy,’ Hermione commented.

Malfoy laughed, causing her to smile up at him. ‘So,’ he said softly, ‘I’ll take this away and start soaking the parchment, and I’ll see you in-’

‘Malfoy,’ Hermione said, quickly. He looked at her, surprised. ‘Look, this is stupid,’ she said swiftly. ‘I mean, you know Harry, and _I_ know Harry, and you only work two floors away,’ she said, gesturing to him as if proving a point. Malfoy nodded, bemused. ‘We’ve got months of the project to go, just because we’re not working together, it doesn’t mean-and this way we don’t have to fight for Harry’s lunch time, do you see?’ she asked, looking up at him expectantly.

Malfoy smiled at her. ‘Not in the slightest,’ he murmured.

Hermione frowned. ‘Oh, I left that bit out,’ she said, huffing with annoyance. ‘I was trying to say, there’s no need for you to say “well I’ll see you in” and disappear. We’re friends, sort of, and we’re both friends with Harry, so it’s only natural for us to spend time together,’ she finished.

Draco watched her silently.

‘Thank you for my present,’ she said quietly.

‘You’re welcome,’ Draco said softly.

‘You could’ve come, you know. To the party. If you wanted,’ she added, cursing herself for stuttering.

‘Room full of Gryffindors?’ he shuddered. ‘No thanks.’

Hermione laughed, and slapped him gently on the arm. ‘Same old ferret Malfoy,’ she smiled.

Malfoy smirked and gestured to her tightly tied robe. ‘Same old spoilsport Granger.’


	17. Working Together Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves with the kind of guy she...hates?

‘Hi,’ Hermione said breathlessly, leaning against the reception desk at St Mungo’s. ‘I’m here to see Draco Malfoy.’

The friendly receptionist frowned a little. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, ‘no visitors.’

‘What?’ Hermione asked, shocked.

‘We can’t let anyone up to see him, Auror’s orders,’ she said regretfully.

‘But you have to let me see him,’ Hermione said, searching desperately for a reason, ‘I’m...his wife!’

The receptionist looked shocked. ‘Oh, Mrs Malfoy, I’m so sorry,’ she said, looking embarrassed. ‘We don’t have anything in his file about a wife,’ she said apologetically.

‘Well,’ Hermione stalled, ‘nobody really knows we’re married yet.’ _Including my “husband”_ , she thought ruefully.

‘Oh, right,’ the receptionist said, putting a finger up to her sealed lips. ‘I won’t breathe a word,’ she said warmly. ‘It’s just that lift there, fourth floor, room twelve,’ she added.

‘Thank you,’ Hermione said, smiling distractedly as she made her way over to the bank of elevators. As she waited for the lift to arrive, Hermione found herself biting her lip as she worried about Malfoy. He and Harry had been out on a mission, bringing in someone evil she assumed – both of them had given her their “can’t discuss it outside the department” speech so she had no real idea what they’d been doing. Getting hurt, apparently.

She flung herself into the lift as soon as the doors opened, pressing firmly on the “4” button as soon as she was inside.

 

He was sleeping when she arrived; his long pale eyelashes resting just above his soft pale skin. There wasn’t a lot of obvious damage; a rip in his robes from a narrowly missed spell, grazed knuckles and a bruised lip from where he’d obviously had to abandon magic for physical fighting, but she knew from his chart that he’d taken some fairly hefty hexes. There was nothing that wouldn’t heal, but he’d need to stay in bed and take his medicines. And sleep.

‘Good evening, Mrs Malfoy,’ an amused voice murmured from near the doorway. ‘How is your husband this evening?’

‘Healing,’ she muttered, twisting in her seat. ‘And what was I supposed to do, Harry? She wasn’t going to let me see him.’

‘You could’ve called me,’ Harry suggested. ‘I would’ve come down and vouched for you.’

‘Oh,’ Hermione said quietly. ‘I didn’t think of that,’ she muttered. Harry smirked, and pulled another hospital chair next to the one she was sitting in.

‘And why was it so important for you to see the ferret?’ he asked blandly.

Hermione frowned at him. ‘He’s my _friend_ ,’ she said, as if it were obvious.

‘Ah,’ Harry said, smiling at her. ‘Of course.’

‘Harry James Potter,’ she said sharply, ‘you get that twinkle out your eye right now. Malfoy and I are _friends. Just_ friends. Got it?’

Nodding solemnly, Harry murmured, ‘Got it. But what if you could be more than friends?’ he asked quietly.

‘Harry,’ she said warningly.

‘Come on, ‘Mione,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve seen the way you two talk to each other. Even the way you fight with each other is more married couple than hated enemies. Now, at least.’

Hermione rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to dispute his comments. Harry leaned forward and placed a hand over her lips. ‘Just think about it, alright?’ he asked.

Frowning at him, she nodded. Lifting his hand from her mouth, he stood up, stroking her hair once as he left her to watch Malfoy sleep, and think about what he’d said.


	18. Working Together Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves with the kind of guy she...hates?

‘Cold, Malfoy?’ Harry asked, watching as Draco huddled further into his chair.

‘No,’ Malfoy said quickly. ‘So don’t be getting any little fantasies about cuddling up with me, Potter. This body is for women only.’

Harry smirked at him. ‘You know, for a man who claims to be straight, you sure talk about touching me a lot,’ he commented.

Draco growled.

They were huddled up in a hut, watching a house reputed to be the temporary hide out for one of the dark wizards they were tracking. They’d been sitting in uncomfortable seats in a freezing cold room for hours now, with hours more to go, and Harry had clearly decided to amuse himself at Malfoy’s expense.

‘So,’ he said, leaning back in his seat, ‘how’s the missus?’

Malfoy’s head snapped round in shock. ‘What?’ he asked sharply.

‘Hermione,’ Harry clarified.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. ‘I think,’ he drawled, ‘that if I had gotten married to Granger, I’d remember.’

‘Yep,’ Harry smirked, ‘that’s not a day _you’d_ want to forget.’

‘Potter, I’m too cold to tend to your insanity. Why don’t you just...sit quietly in the corner and drool on yourself like usual.’

‘Touchy, touchy,’ Harry said, his voice laced with amusement. ‘I only call her that because that’s what she told the receptionist at St Mungo’s.’

‘She did _what_?’ Malfoy asked, shocked enough to sit up straight, before the cold forced him to huddle back down into his cloak. ‘Explain to me again why we can’t use heating charms?’

‘The evil thing has magic detection up,’ Harry explained, paraphrasing the warning given at their briefing. ‘The receptionist refused to let her see you in case she was evil,’ Malfoy snorted, ‘so she told her she was your secret wife.’

‘Sneaky,’ Malfoy commented tersely.

‘Yes, I thought you’d like that one,’ Harry smirked.

Malfoy squinted at him out of the side of his eyes. ‘Are your eyes _twinkling_?’ he asked incredulously.

‘Not that I’ve noticed,’ Harry responded calmly. ‘So,’ he said again, ‘what shall we do to keep awake?’

‘Sit quietly,’ Malfoy bit out.

‘Nope, won’t work,’ Harry said cheerfully. ‘I know! We could play “Twenty Questions”.’

Malfoy groaned. ‘Fine, you go first.’

Harry smirked gleefully.

‘Okay,’ Malfoy said, thinking for a second. ‘Is it...a woman?’

‘Nope,’ Harry smiled.

‘So, it’s a man,’ Draco said quietly.

‘Nope, and that’s two,’ Harry said.

Draco yelped. ‘That wasn’t a question! And how can it be neither?’

‘Because it’s not a person,’ Harry said. ‘And that _was_ a question,’ he added.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. ‘Bugger off, Potter,’ he muttered sullenly.

‘Oh, but Malfoy, you _really_ want to know what I’m thinking of.’

‘Tell. Me. Then.’ Malfoy muttered, wondering whether the She-Weasel would hex him if her husband didn’t come back in one piece. Or at all.

‘I was thinking of “The Thing Malfoy Doesn’t Remember Saying On His Twenty Fifth Because He Was Completely Wankered”,’ Harry declared triumphantly.

Malfoy stared at him. ‘How was I supposed to guess that?’

Harry considered this, shifting a little in his seat. ‘Well, you didn’t have to get the _exact_ wording,’ he conceded.

Malfoy tried to decide which body parts would be worth giving up in return for killing Harry.

‘Anyway,’ Harry was saying, ‘the point isn’t what I _thought_ , it’s what you _said_.’

An arm, Malfoy decided, he could live with just one arm. It’d save money on tailored robes for a start.

‘Potter, stop enjoying yourself with this, it’s most un-Gryffindorish. All your little lion cub friends’ll kick you out of the tree house for keeping secrets,’ he grunted. Harry laughed quietly.

‘Don’t you remember _any_ of it?’ he asked.

‘ _No_ ,’ Malfoy growled. ‘As you well know, the entire day of my twenty-fifth birthday, and the night thereof, have been wiped from my memory by the evil potion you forced upon me.’

‘Tequila,’ Harry informed him, ‘and it wasn’t me who ordered them to bring the whole bottle over because he was bored of the tiny, little shots.’

‘What did I know,’ Malfoy sulked, ‘I was drunk. I was talking bollocks.’

‘Well you were certainly _talking_ ,’ Harry commented. ‘All about a petty, infuriating, maddeningly pretty, fluffy-haired witch.’

‘Maddeningly what now?’ Malfoy asked in disbelief.

‘On and on about how she was _so_ annoying, and _so_ nice, and _so_ nasty, and _so_ cute,’ Harry said, affecting boredom.

Draco sat in shocked silence, his eyes wide.

‘Of course that was before you got to know her,’ Harry commented.

‘Well, exactly,’ Draco started, ‘now I know that she’s not-’

‘Nasty,’ Harry said quietly.

‘No,’ Draco said quickly. ‘I know that she’s really-’

‘Nice,’ Harry interrupted.

‘Potter, if you don’t stop that I’m going to hex you into next week, right leg be damned.’

Harry quirked an eyebrow at him, suppressing a smirk. Raising his hands, he turned to face the window. After a moment, Draco sighed and settled back into his cloak, huddling down to get as warm as possible.

‘I think you should tell her,’ Harry said after a moment. ‘That you love her,’ he clarified.

‘Right, you’re a dead man,’ Draco said, sounding regretful. ‘I didn’t want to do this, but you brought it on yourself.’

‘In fact,’ Harry said, shifting in his seat and ignoring Malfoy’s threats completely, ‘I think you should tell her tomorrow.’

Draco froze. ‘And if I don’t?’ he asked.

Harry smirked in a worryingly familiar manner. ‘Then,’ Harry sighed, ‘the information might reach her from...another source.’ Suddenly Malfoy realised where he’d seen that smirk before, it was the one he practiced in front of the mirror; the one for when he was pure evil. Malfoy shuddered and huddled down in his cloak.

‘I hate you,’ he hissed at Harry.

‘You’ll thank me in the end,’ Harry laughed, his eyes twinkling.


	19. Working Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves, with the kind of guy she...hates?

  
  
‘Bloody hell!’ Hermione cried reflexively, surprised to find herself dropping unceremoniously to the floor.   
  


‘Careful, Granger, you’re beginning to sound like Weasley,’ Malfoy smirked, seemingly undisturbed by his own inelegant tumble despite the signs of tiredness around his eyes and mouth.

Tucking her feet beneath her, Hermione glared balefully up at him as he shuffled his fallen papers back into a neat bundle and rose from the floor with boneless grace. Blowing a lock of thick chestnut hair from her face, she gathered her own pile of parchment together and staggered upright. By the time she was vertical once more, Malfoy had already stepped over her and strode into the room beyond.

Stopping just inside the door, Hermione took a moment to brush out her robes and push her unruly hair behind her ear before taking a seat at the far end of the long meeting table. As she waited for the Monthly Inter-Departmental Meeting of Eternal Doom to begin, Hermione calmed herself down by carefully ordering her meeting notes and setting her ink bottle and quill out.

As she shuffled through the papers, one wayward piece of parchment caught her eye. It was sticking out from between her blank note-taking parchments, looking slightly crumpled by the fall. Quickly she whisked it out of the pile and smoothed it out on top.

She was vaguely aware of other staff members entering the meeting room and taking up their places, all according to the unwritten rules of social interaction. It was like a high-school cafeteria all over again. The MR liaisons, not all blonde but all women and all bubbly, sat in the carefully measured middle ground between the earnest Magical Beings reps in their thick woollen jumpers and the dark, and deeply paranoid, Aurors in their sharp black cloaks. The Potions Department – Snape clones to a supercilious man – lounged arrogantly opposite the Beings reps, taking turns with the MLE reps to hold high the mantle of egotism. Hermione, the lone R&D rep, sat at the back of the room and kept as far out of it as she could.

In theory these monthly meetings were meant to be an open forum to resolve issues and promote harmony within the Ministry, in reality they were a waste of time at best, a danger at worst. A pair of wizards facing off over drawn wands was not an uncommon sight around the meeting table, as old grievances were brought to air and irresolvable arguments thrashed out again and again. Hermione tended to tune it out now, using it as a welcome chance to get some paperwork done without interruptions.

As she watched the department reps taking their seats, she realised she was idly stroking the parchment beneath her fingertips. There was something odd about it. Even after the crumpling it had taken, it felt smoother than parchment, as if it had been steeped in something. She peered at it, it _looked_ exactly the same as her other papers. Almost. Down in the bottom right hand corner, there was a small dark mark. At first glance it looked like a careless smudge but, peering closer, she could see that it was actually three distinct runes, inked exactly over the top of each other, in black, red, and purple ink.

Her eyes widened as she realised what it was. Surreptitiously reaching out for her quill, she dipped it in her unstoppered ink bottle and wrote

_ Malfoy? _

Almost immediately, there appeared beneath her writing another word .

__ Granger  
  
_How does he do that?_ she wondered, distractedly. Who else could drawl in their writing? 

Across the table, half-hidden by the insufficient lighting of the dungeon where their imprisonment was, appropriately, being held, Draco Malfoy watched with amusement as the smartest witch in their year _finally_ recognised the parchment for what it was. Now that his elegantly looped handwriting had confirmed it, she was doing her best to contain her glee. And failing.

_ Merlin’s Beard, H, it’s only a bit of parchment, don’t fall off your seat about it. _

Hermione flushed at his amused reproach and scouted the table for him beneath her eyelashes. She had long given up on remonstrating him about shortening her name, Mione was bad enough, but H? He was just missing it out altogether! But, he was unrepentant, and she had gotten used to it.

_ It’s not  _ just _a bit of parchment!_ she wrote swiftly.  _ It’s the culmination of nine months of intensive research and development, it’s a breakthrough in Auror communication, it’s a  _ triumph _in Inter-Departmental co-operation!_

_ You forgot inter-house unity _ he scratched out languidly, having heard this speech many times in the last nine months.

And _inter-house unity_ she added, rolling her eyes at him as she located him across the table from her. 

The parchment was the result of a long, and often trying, collaboration between the Auror Department – as represented by Draco – and R&D – which was, of course, Hermione. They had been trying to find a way for Aurors to report to their superiors without resorting to owls, which would be noticed, or Patronus messaging, which could be flashy. The parchment before her, spelled to synch with its pair on Malfoy’s desk, was the product of their efforts. 

_ Was it really necessary to knock me over just to give me this? _

_Possibly not_ he conceded, after a moment’s thought. But he added, before she could get riled up I was also testing something.

_ What on earth could you have been testing that required me to be on the floor? _

There was a long pause, and she peeked through her lashes to see him smirking at her across the table, one slender blonde brow raised, as he toyed suggestively with the gold-edged quill he was using. Suddenly realising what he was implying, Hermione quickly dropped her gaze to the desk .

_ My, that’s a fetching shade of red you’ve turned, H. What is that called? Mortified Maroon? _

_ Don’t change the subject  _ she wrote, ignoring her flaming cheeks ,  _ what were you testing? _

_ That Untippable Inkpot I got you for your birthday _ he explained smoothly. 

She couldn’t pinpoint the moment when they had gone from screaming at each other to swapping birthday presents; it had been a gradual thing, probably influenced by Malfoy’s grudging friendship with Harry.

_Did it pass?_ She wrote calmly.

_ Did you have to Evanesco your blouse? _

_ No. _

_Then it passed. Pay attention_ he wrote suddenly, the meeting from hell will now come to order.

There was a sudden flurry of activity as everyone stood at the entrance of their division leader. When Hermione sat down again, there was a sleepy, dark-haired Auror slumped next to her in defiance of the unspoken rule that Aurors would only sit with their own.

Smiling fondly at him, Hermione reached a hand under the desk and tweaked his knee. He was immediately alert, his eyes wide, one hand on his wand. As she waited for him to recognise her, Hermione noticed letters blooming on the page before her .

_H!_  Draco exclaimed, his handwriting alarmed and reproachful. _What have I told you about Aurors?_

 _Deeply paranoid, always alert, blah, blah, blah_ she responded carelessly.   _It’s Harry_ _!_

There was a pause where, she imagined, Malfoy took several deep breaths.

_ That only works when he  _ knows _it’s you._

She frowned at him across the table.  _Why so cranky?_

 _Stakeout._  He scribbled tersely.

 _Really?_ She asked, intrigued.  _Who?_

She could _feel_ his disapproving gaze.  _You know I can’t tell you. Aurors_

 _Only discuss their work with other Aurors_ _._ She finished, having heard _this_ speech a number of times.   _You do realise, don’t you Malfoy, that Aurors work in a_ department _, not a super-secret treehouse._

_ I realise that I’d get my arse hexed for telling you. _

Hermione sighed. If there was one positive thing to be said for Malfoy – and actually there were a number of them – it was that he could keep a secret. The man was a steel trap. Unlike the man next to her, she thought, smirking.

_Don’t even think about it._ She frowned at the words appearing before her.  _As attractive as that evil smirk is, H, I will not allow you to use your friendship with Harry to weasel (yes I used it deliberately) information from him._

Before she could respond, new letters were flowing onto the page, harsh and dark, and clearly not aimed at her.

_ POTTER! STOP BEING A TOSSER AND PAY ATTENTION TO THE MEETING! _

Startled, she looked up to see Harry peering curiously over her shoulder. Smirking at Malfoy’s cranky words, Harry reached out for her quill. Reluctantly she handed it over, interested to see what he would write .

_ Keep your robes on, Malfoy, I was just interested to see if you’d shared our discussion with Hermione. _

Hermione’s eyes widened and she snatched the quill from Harry’s hand.

_ Discussion??? _

Looking over, she could see the look Malfoy was shooting Harry, and she found herself wondering why Harry wasn’t combusting on the spot .

_ Bugger off, Potter. _

Laughing silently, Harry raised his hands in defeat and slumped back in his chair to watch the face off between Magical Beings and MLE.

There was a pause, as Hermione struggled with herself .

_ Malfoy? _

_ Not happening.  _ He scribbled quickly .

She bit her lip, and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

_ No, and that’s not fair. _

_ But Harry said _

_ Potter needs to mind his own business. _

Suddenly, Hermione smiled, and Malfoy started as a scrap of parchment in front of him began to twitch and curl into a tube. Frowning, he watched it grow longer and thicker, the edges nearest to the table spreading to form a base as hot, dark liquid filled up the cup.

Malfoy shook his head at her across the table as he raised the heavy mug and took a welcome sip of hot coffee.

_ That’s not even unfair, _ he complained ,  _ it’s downright cheating. _

_ I guess some Slytherin has rubbed off on me. I didn’t mean it like that _ _._ She added hastily, knowing that Malfoy was already raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Looking over at him, she found him smiling at her instead, and beamed in return. A combination of his awful childhood, the strain of being a double agent during the war, and the requisite Auror paranoia, had built a thick wall around Malfoy, smothering genuine smiles, and unfettered laughter. In Hermione’s eyes, every smile he gave her was a triumph, an act of trust that she treasured .

_Damn,_ he scrawled lazily, _that could have brightened my afternoon considerably._

_ Tough. _

He was about to scratch out a witty response, when the meeting was interrupted by one of MLE reps sprouting a Pinocchio-like nose, as a tarnished halo appeared over the head of one of the Magical Being reps. Everyone pitched in to the fight, except Hermione, who simply reversed the hexes, Malfoy, who was only ever on Malfoy’s side, and Harry, who was feigning sleep. Probably.

Before they could resume their conversation, the Division Head had decided to move on to less sensitive subjects, and was calling on Draco and Hermione to report on their project.

Both standing at their opposite sides of the table, the two of them gave the report they had discussed; informing the group that they were currently – Hermione had to suppress a smile at how applicable that word was – testing the product, but that early indications were that it would work well, and they hoped to have a finished product to present in a month’s time.

The Division Head thanked them for their hard work, holding them up as an example of inter-departmental co-operation, before allowing them to return to their seats.

_See_ _,_ she couldn’t resist writing, _inter-departmental co-operation._

_ Ha!  _ He replied  _ He’s only saying that because he didn’t see the hissy fit you pulled when I borrowed your Ancient Runes book _

_ Without permission! I have no idea what you spilled on it, but it still smells like you. _

_ Ah, sweet. Something to remember me by. _

_Why would I have to remember you? You only work two floors away_ _._ She commented, puzzled by his sudden attack of sentiment.

_ You really think we’ll see each other after this? _

_ I repeat my earlier statement. _

He was quiet for a moment. She supposed he was referring to the bizarre exclusive attitude of the Aurors .

_Malfoy,_ she scratched after a moment, _You can be obtuse, egotistical, and a right pain in the arse, but I’ve spent all day every day with you (excluding_ some _weekends) for nine months and I count us as friends. I don’t know what your plans are, but I’m not going to ditch you just because you have to go back to Secrecy Central._

She waited, not daring to look at him, all her attention focused on the blank parchment in front of her, till she saw his lazily looping letters blooming onto the page.

_ Does this mean I don’t get a goodbye kiss? _

She rolled her eyes.  _Don’t be an arse._

_ You tell him Hermione. _

_ POTTER! Get out of this conversation! _

_ You’ve got until lunch Malfoy, that’s all I’m saying. _

_ Boys! _

Hermione elbowed Harry away from the page, kicking him lightly in the shins as she did so. He winced but grinned impishly at her before sliding back into his chair and closing his eyes again.

He wasn’t writing anything, but Hermione could tell Malfoy was muttering evil comments about Harry .

_Breathe_ _._ She wrote, amused.

_ Lanky, interfering git. _

_ Oi! That’s my best friend. _

_ I repeat my earlier comment. _

_Funny._  There was a pause and he could see her dithering over asking him.

_ Ask, for goodness’ sake. _

_ Is there any point? _

Seeing that she was looking at him across the table, he shrugged marginally.  _Depends what you ask._

Dipping her quill in the inkpot once again, Hermione stretched a hand out and wrote  _ What did Harry mean when he said “You’ve got until lunch”? _

 A movement at the edge of her vision, one of the MR reps had lurched out of her seat, clutching the table to stop herself from hexing the drawling Potioneers, distracted Hermione from the parchment. When she looked back, Malfoy’s answer was already visible .

_ Oh, that? He meant “I’m a lanky, interfering git.” _

Pressing her lips together to hold back the laughter, Hermione fluttered her quill disapprovingly in his direction.

_ Answer the question. _

Across the table, she could see him glowering and muttering, shifting agitatedly in his seat. Finally, he leant forward, protecting the parchment with his arm, as if they were back in the Hogwarts exam halls.

_ Fine. The Boy Who Lives To Annoy Me _

_ Malfoy _

_ Don’t interrupt. Weasley’s wife _

_ Malfoy! _

_ had some kind of hallucination on the stakeout last night, and thinks he’s figured something out about me. _

_So?_ She asked, having trouble seeing the problem.

_ So? In typical Gryffindor sharing and caring mode, he thinks you should be told about it. _

_ Why me? _

_ Well, it  _ there was a pause, and she could see him across the table, shuffling about awkwardly,  _ concerns you. Peripherally.  _ He added quickly.

_ But you don’t think I should know. _ __ She commented, a little hurt that he would keep a secret from her. Looking up, she could see him pushing a hand roughly through his thick, pale hair, as he hunched further over the paper.

_ H, I didn’t say that. _

_ But, **D** , you’re not telling me. _

Even across the table, she could hear his soft, defeated sigh.  _I know._

He was writing again, his quill moving quickly, his face close to the page. Hermione took a moment to check out the meeting room, looking up from her parchment, just too late to protect it from the flaming cape that landed on her table.

‘Aguamenti!’ Harry shouted, jumping up to direct the water to the more ferociously burning sections.

‘Well,’ the Division Head was saying, ‘I believe it might be best if we wrap it up there. So,’ he gave a strained smile to those assembled, ‘same time, next month, then!’ and hurried from the room.

‘What happened?’ Hermione asked, reaching under the sodden cloak to retrieve her things.

‘MR versus Potions,’ explained Harry, who had been watching the whole thing. ‘One of the Potions reps called the MR department” wishy-washy little girls with unrealistic ideals”-’

‘Ouch,’ Hermione muttered.

‘Yep. She hexed his cape on fire, he threw it off and...’

‘Toasted Hermione,’ she finished, gingerly patting her hair to make sure it wasn’t signed.

‘But I saved the day,’ he said, looking unreasonably smug, as they headed out the door. ‘By the way,’ he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder, ‘did Malfoy ever tell you what we discussed?’

Hermione frowned, looking around for him. ‘No,’ she said, unable to pick his distinctive hair out in the crowd.

Harry smirked. ‘You know what, I’m gonna take you to lunch. H,’ he added, quickly side-stepping her swing at his waist.

Returning from her, very enjoyable, lunch with Harry, Hermione spontaneously decided to bypass her floor and continue up to the Auror Department with Harry. After their talk at lunch, she was determined to force Malfoy to tell her about his conversation with Harry the previous night.

‘Good,’ Harry said, when she told him of her decision. ‘I think you should talk to him about it. And there he is,’ he added, seeing Malfoy’s shock of blonde hair disappearing swiftly into his office as they stepped off the elevator.

‘Malfoy!’ Hermione shouted, waving to Harry and striding along the corridor after Malfoy. She got to his door just in time to jam her sensible black patent wedge shoe between the door frame and his rapidly closing office door. ‘Malfoy,’ she said reproachfully, leaning against the frame to get a better look at him through the thin gap.

‘Come in, then,’ he muttered, not so much opening the door as, merely, letting go of it.

‘Thanks muchly,’ she responded archly.

‘Nice lunch with Potter?’ he sneered, dropping into his office chair.

‘Lovely, thank you,’ she said, with exaggerated politeness. She wasn’t often in his office, and she looked round as she took a seat in front of his desk. It wasn’t cluttered, by any stretch of the imagination; Aurors didn’t like to keep family pictures out in case there were spies that could use the knowledge against them. The walls were covered though; thick sturdy shelves supporting rows of solid leather-bound tomes on foe detection and being sneaky, or whatever it was Auror’s had to know about. Malfoy was sitting stiffly in a tall, executive desk chair, a pile of papers from this morning’s meeting slung casually across the desk.

‘We talked about your...discussion, with Harry-’ she began.

‘I knew it,’ he muttered darkly. ‘Berk.’

‘Malfoy,’ she said, feeling the beginnings of irritation creeping in, ‘ _what_ is the matter with you? You like Harry, normally.’

‘Yeah, well...’ He muttered under his breath.

‘I can’t hear you,’ Hermione sighed.

‘That was before he betrayed me,’ Draco said, his voice rising in annoyance.

Hermione gasped, and lurched to her feet. ‘Harry would never betray _anyone_ ,’ she shouted, ‘he’s a good, loyal-’

‘traitorous,’ Malfoy muttered.

‘Why are you so mad at him!’ Hermione screeched, losing her temper completely.

‘BECAUSE HE TOLD YOU HOW I FEEL ABOUT YOU!’ Malfoy screamed in return.

Hermione went white. ‘How you...what?’ she muttered, dropping into her chair again.

Malfoy clamped his lips firmly together and clutched the back of his chair for support. After a moment, he prized his lips apart to mutter. ‘He didn’t tell you?’

Still in shock, Hermione shook her head numbly. ‘He just said it was important, but that I should be open-minded about it.’

Malfoy coughed in surprise, and sat down. Hard. ‘Are you?’ he asked quietly. ‘Open-minded, I mean.’

Hermione raised her wide brown eyes to meet his anxious silver gaze. She nodded wordlessly. Reaching out, he pushed a piece of parchment from the top of his pile, sliding it across the desk until it lay in front of her. Closing his eyes briefly, he sighed, and lifted his hand from the paper.

Brow furrowed, Hermione looked down at Malfoy’s copy of their conversation from the meeting. She was about to question Malfoy, when something caught her eye at the bottom of the page; there were a few extra lines in his distinctive scrawl. As she scanned over them, she realised these must be the words he had writing at the end of the meeting, the words that had been singed from her parchment by the fire.

_ I know.  **I** don’t think you need to know this, but Potter can be very persuasive when one has been without sleep for thirty hours. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, and I hope this won’t affect our friendship, but Potter thought you should know that, I love you. _

Hermione was silent for several moments, reading and re-reading the words.

‘Hermione?’ he asked softly, when she had been silent for an unprecedented length of time. Looking up, she reached out for his elegant quill, discarded atop the pile of papers, and dipped it into his inkpot.   His heart in his throat, Draco watched, as she quietly wrote her response. What he saw, made him grin widely, leaning over the table to clasp her beautiful face in his hands and press a soft kiss to her full, smiling lips.

_ D, _

_ I love you too, _

_ H. _

 


	20. Working Together Extra Scene: In Vegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the kind of project she loves, with the kind of guy she...hates?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of Draco Malfoy's 25th birthday. Sort of.

  
The first sensation Harry experienced was one of extreme comfort, swiftly followed by intense pain. Trying to open his eyes seemed to make the pain worse, so he gave up and instead lay very still, with his eyes _very_ closed.

*~*~*

A loud thump and thick book hitting his desk signalled to Harry that there was likely to be a short break in his paperwork. Especially as the thick book had landed _on_ his paperwork. Looking up, he found his partner against crime glowering at the edge of his desk.

‘Malfoy?’ he asked, tentatively.

Draco seemed to notice him suddenly. ‘Potter,’ he said, looking up at Harry, ‘let’s go for a drink.’

‘Sure,’ Harry said, easily, reaching out to move the book to one side. ‘Let me just finish this paperwor-’

‘No,’ Malfoy said, his hand descending on the top of the book. ‘Let’s go for a drink,’ he repeated, leaning closer. ‘Now.’

‘Malfoy, come on,’ Harry started, ‘we’ve got work to do.’

Draco sighed. ‘Potter, this case couldn’t be any more stalled if I cast a Freezing Charm on it. It’s not going anywhere, but I am. It’s my 25th birthday and I want to get drunk. Really,’ he added with feeling, ‘ _really_ , drunk.’

‘Oh,’ Harry said, watching Draco carefully, ‘really _really_ drunk? Well, I think I can manage that.’ Stepping out from behind the desk, he swapped his work robes for a Muggle jacket and gestured to Malfoy to do likewise. ‘As long as you don’t mind a Muggle pub.’

‘Whatever it takes,’ Draco said, transfiguring his robes as he followed Harry out the door.

*~*~*

The second time Harry woke up he was conscious long enough to realise that it was definitely not _his_ bed he was sleeping in. Still unable to open his eyes, he couldn’t figure out whose bed it _was_ before sleep claimed him again.

*~*~*

‘She’s just so annoying,’ Draco was saying, slurring slightly as he knocked back his fifth tequila shot. ‘ _All_ I wanted was the bloody book. And would she give it to me?’ He turned to Harry, who was in a slightly better state, and answered his own question. ‘No. Why wouldn’t she let me have the book, Harry?’ he asked plaintively.

‘Don’t you _have_ the book?’ Harry asked, reaching for his shot, only to find that Draco was already knocking it back.

‘Yeah,’ Draco muttered around a mouthful of lime wedge, ‘and you should’ve heard her bitching when I took it.’

*~*~*

The third time Harry woke up he knew he wasn’t going to get to go to sleep again. Focusing very hard, he managed to lift the dead weight that had previously been his right arm, and bat it at his eyes long enough to clear some of the sleep sand from the edges. Forcing his eyes open, he squinted at the bedside table and groaned.

*~*~*

‘I don’t like this pub anymore,’ Draco declared, now clutching the half-empty bottle of tequila they had been drinking.

Harry retrieved it from him and took a slug. ‘Vah?’ he gasped as the rich liquid hit the back of his throat. Quickly he thrust a lime wedge into his mouth. ‘Why?’ he repeated, when he could speak again.

‘’S boring,’ Draco said, grabbing the bottle back. ‘Let’s go somewhere _fun_ ,’ he said. ‘Somewhere _shiny_.’

‘Like where?’ Harry asked, watching as Draco knocked back a slug of the tequila and navigated the lime to his mouth without apparent effort. ‘Vegas?’ he asked.

‘Where’s Vegas?’ Draco asked. ‘Is it shiny?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Harry replied. ‘Very shiny.’

 

‘Why are you touching me?’ Draco asked grumpily, swaying slightly as they stood in the alleyway behind the bar, Harry making sure no one was passing.

‘Do you know how to get to Vegas?’ Harry asked him. Draco shook his head. ‘Then you have to Side-Along, so I have to hold your arm you pollick. Pillock,’ he corrected himself.

‘Fine,’ Draco slurred. ‘Just don’t get any ideas, Potter.’

‘Don’t worry, Malfoy,’ Harry muttered drily, ‘I’m not your type.’

*~*~*

Apparently disturbed by Harry’s groan, someone else swiftly followed it with one of their own.

‘Ugh,’ the familiar voice groaned. ‘Now I know how Weasley feels.’

‘ _Malfoy?_ ’ Harry asked. ‘Why?’ he added.

‘It hurts to think,’ Draco commented.

*~*~*

‘Oh Potter, this is amazing, I can’t say as I’ve ever been anywhere so shiny,’ Malfoy muttered sarcastically, staring around at the dark alleyway they had landed in.

‘Shut up, Malfoy,’ Harry retorted. ‘I can’t very well Apparate in the middle of a bunch of Muggles, can I?’ Draco shrugged expansively. ‘The shiny’s this way,’ Harry added, directing Malfoy towards the end of the alley.

‘Now, this,’ Malfoy said, standing on The Strip staring at the flashing neon lights and colourfully dressed people, ‘is shiny.’

 

‘’s all luck!’ Malfoy yelled to the crowd gathered round them at the roulette table. ‘When the fates are smiling!’ he added, knocking back his drink and snagging the arm of a passing waitress for another. When she had gone, he turned back to the table and shifted a chunk of their chips onto one of the squares. ‘Black 25!’ he called.

With somewhat less showmanship, the other players placed their bets and the wheel was spun. Harry watched both the wheel and Malfoy as he had all the other times, wondering which spell Malfoy was using to guarantee them a win and how he could get him to stop without drawing the attention of the casino boss. Harry had watched enough movies to know he didn’t want that.

With a sinking feeling, he watched as the little white ball skittered to a stop before dropping with a quiet click and a cheer from the crowd, into black, 25. ‘Malfoy,’ Harry said, trying to grab his attention as he gleefully retrieved their increased pile of chips, ‘maybe we should try another casino.’

‘Don’t be stupid, Potter,’ Malfoy slurred, looking scornfully at him, ‘I’m winning here, why would I go somewhere else?’

‘I think you should listen to your friend,’ a voice commented from behind.

Malfoy spun around, the action causing him to tilt against Harry in his inebriated state. ‘Goyle?’ he asked, staring up at the large man in front of him.

‘What did you just call me?’ the man asked, looking angry.

‘Uh, it’s a second name,’ Harry said, quickly, stepping in front of Malfoy who had now started shoving his chips into every available pocket. ‘You look like a friend of...ours, from school. Handsome guy,’ he added, smiling nervously at the bouncer as he lied through his teeth.

‘Obviously,’ the large man commented, preening nonetheless. ‘Look,’ he said, drawing Harry to one side, ‘you’re obviously a good judge of character,’ he added, ‘and I don’t really want to beat you up, so can you take your friend, leave the chips and _get out?_ ’

‘Yes,’ Harry said quickly, snagging Malfoy by the hook of his coat. ‘Going now.’

‘You wanna start somethin’?’ Malfoy slurred, patting his pockets for his wand. ‘I could take all of you in a duel,’ he added.

‘No you couldn’t,’ Harry corrected him, ‘and no they don’t. Time to go, idiot.’

 

‘You’re a good partner,’ Malfoy said, patting Harry’s arm as they tried to navigate through the crowd. ‘Here,’ he said, handing Harry a glass from one pocket.

Without looking at it, Harry knocked it back, gasping as the warm liquid melted away the anxiety caused by their encounter in the casino. ‘You too, Malfoy,’ he commented absently.

‘They can’t split us up, can they?’ Malfoy asked, stopping suddenly. ‘At the Ministry?’

‘What?’ Harry asked, confused by more than the alcohol. ‘Why would they split us up?’

‘Dunno,’ Malfoy commented, with a shrug. ‘’Cause this case is all stopped,’ he added. ‘I don’t want to work with anyone else,’ he confided in Harry. Before Harry could respond, he saw Malfoy’s eyes shift to a spot over his shoulder and widen. ‘Look!’ he cried. ‘That’s the answer!’

Turning around, Harry found himself staring at a sign that said “Be Together Forever, Register Your Partnership Here”. Beneath it, in smaller letters were the words “Now legal in the state of Nevada”.

*~*~*

‘Malfoy, what are you doing in my bed?’ Harry asked, afraid to move his head far enough to see his partner.

‘Why do you assume it’s _your_ bed?’ Malfoy commented archly.

‘Fine. What am _I_ doing in _your_ bed?’ Harry amended.

‘Pff, it’s not _my_ bed,’ Malfoy scoffed. ‘ _My_ bed’s much nicer than this. Bigger too.’ Reaching out with one foot, he aimed a kick at Harry’s legs, which were stretched over to his “side”.

‘Ow!’ Harry cried.

‘Ouch. Bad idea.’ Malfoy muttered, carefully reaching up to cradle his sore head.

‘Whose bed is it then?’ Harry asked, feeling the beginnings of exasperation.

‘Well, this little tag says “Property of MGM Grand Hotel and Casino” so I’m going to assume it’s theirs.’

Harry sighed. ‘Why are _we_ in _their_ bed?’ he asked, hoping to finally get an answer to his question. There was silence from the other side of the bed. ‘Malfoy?’ he asked, after Malfoy had been quiet for several moments.

There was some shuffling on the other side before Malfoy responded. ‘There’s no little tag for that.’

*~*~*

‘We would like,’ Malfoy said, drawing himself up to his full height, ‘to stay in your _best_ suite.’

‘I’m afraid our _best_ suite is our honeymoon suite, sir,’ the receptionist commented, smiling politely. ‘All of our suites are of very high quality though,’ she added, ‘I’m sure you’ll find them to your satisfaction.’

‘No!’ Malfoy declared loudly, some of the other patrons of the hotel looked round and the receptionist started to look nervous. ‘We want the _best_.’

‘As I say, _sir_ , that would be our honeymoon suite, which is only available for newly married couples.’

‘Best, best, best!’ Malfoy declared.

Harry tugged slightly at Malfoy’s arm. ‘It’s alright, we’ll go somewhere else.’

‘Is there a problem, Sandy?’ A tall man appeared from behind the receptionist.

‘Well, sir,’ Sandy said reluctantly, ‘the gentleman has requested our best suite. I’ve informed him that our honeymoon suite is only for newly married couples.’

‘Discrimination!’ Malfoy cried drunkenly. ‘Just because we’re not married! Only the best for my partner,’ he said, patting Harry fondly again.

‘Ah!’ the manager said. ‘Have you registered your partnership?’ he asked.

‘Yes!’ Harry said, carefully retrieving the bit of paper given to them at the 24hr Court O’ Law.

‘Wonderful!’ the manager said. ‘Welcome to the MGM Grand,’ he added.

‘’Sacly,’ Malfoy muttered as Harry took the key and led him away.

*~*~*

‘Well,’ Harry said, slotting his credit card back into his wallet as they made their way out of the hotel, ‘that was painful.’

‘The hangover or the price?’ Malfoy asked, drinking heavily from a bottle of water they had acquired from the mini bar.

‘Price,’ Harry replied.

‘Maybe we can pawn these to pay for it,’ Malfoy said, holding out the two gold wedding bands they had woken up wearing.

‘Funny, Malfoy,’ Harry muttered.

‘I don’t think so, Potter,’ Malfoy retorted. ‘How are we going to get out of this?’ he asked. ‘I can’t be married. Especially not to you!’

‘Thanks muchly,’ Harry muttered. Draco glared at him. Harry sighed. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he commented. ‘I picked this up in the lobby.’

Malfoy squinted at the leaflet Harry was giving to him. ‘ _In Vino Erratum?_ ,’ he read, ‘ _Let us put it right with a super-quick annulment from Void 'n' Vamoose._ You think this’ll work?’ he asked, sceptically.

Harry laughed sharply. ‘Malfoy, this town’s slogan is “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas”. I’m sure they’re prepared for these situations.’

‘Good,’ Draco muttered. ‘Let’s get divorced, get out, and _never mention this again._ ’

‘Deal.’  


  
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The End.

  
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